


False Pretenses

by tasteoftheforbidden



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Addiction, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Banter, Character Development, Draco isn't debonair and perfect because he's broken, Dysfunctional Relationships, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Ensemble Cast, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone goes through a moment of self-discovery, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friendship, Healing, Hermione doesn't have a bleeding heart for anything that moves, Humor, Multi, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Psychological Trauma, Slow Burn, Slytherins can have loyal friendships, Violence, a very slow burn, unlearning prejudices
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 178,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25838047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasteoftheforbidden/pseuds/tasteoftheforbidden
Summary: The solicitor was convinced that the only way to salvage the Malfoy family name was marriage to a certain muggle-born witch."Granger is one of the people who has witnessed every single negative aspect of my personality. The moment she sees me act decent, her defenses will shoot up. She'll know from her gut that something is wrong." Draco paused, twirling the glass of firewhiskey in his hand."So… you're going to offer it to her? Like a deal?" Blaise was positively sure that the Malfoy heir had gone mental. What could he possibly present to his longtime mortal enemy to get her to agree?*A story that uses the most common tropes in Dramione fanfiction... Then changes how it's done.
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson/Harry Potter
Comments: 432
Kudos: 915
Collections: dm fanfics, dramione to read





	1. The Order of the Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear readers! Welcome to False Pretenses :) I want to give everyone a bit of a disclaimer so you guys have an idea about what you're getting into ^^ 
> 
> If you're looking for a fluffy, fast-paced, generally light fic, this isn't it. I am a big fan of slow burn stories, and I gravitate towards character-driven ones. Expect yourselves to be surprised by how much the characters change and mature as you read on. 
> 
> This is mainly a Dramione fic, but since I adore works that have an ensemble cast, this one has quite the line up as well. Everyone will have their own struggle, and their own moment of growth. 
> 
> Another heads up: if you didn't take time to read the tags, then I am letting you know now that I can be quite the angsty writer (don't worry there's still a lot of humor in this). I love realistic conflicts and confrontations, as well as depicting trauma and socially relevant issues. Please do take care if you are easily triggered. 
> 
> This is a story of self-discovery and healing - a story that deals with the grays instead of the blacks and the whites. There are no right or wrong answers :)
> 
> I hope you enjoy it ^^

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort was dead. The war was finally over. All were rejoicing except maybe for the Malfoys. Lucius was in Azkaban and the association of the Malfoys with the Dark Lord has ostracized them from society. There was only one way left to salvage their family name. "You want me to marry a-" He couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence.

"I've gotten word that the ministry is planning to gradually strip your family of your property, money, and status." Zachary Levinson, the Malfoy family legal adviser, began as he eyed Draco and Narcissa sympathetically.

Draco said nothing as he studied his family's longtime solicitor. The hairline of his sleeked back dark hair seemed to have receded even further since the last time he saw him. The buttons of his white shirt strained with every movement he made. His black suit was taught over his arms, a portion of the fabric bunching up slightly on his shoulders, clearly a size smaller.

"Needless to say, it would be unlawful to do so based solely on the sentence passed on Lucius. That would go against all of your basic rights." Levinson paused for a moment to emphasize his next point. "However, control in the ministry has shifted. Majority of the authority and power belong to those who fought against you during the war."

He handed Narcissa a thin ledger outlining the profiles of all the current ministry heads, along with their constituents. "Various magical creatures and muggle-borns now make up the majority of the committee. Your past influence can no longer be utilized. And if I may be so frank, I would even go as far as saying it's a _liability_."

Narcissa said nothing as she perused the thin black leather book in her hands, silently sizing up potential adversaries.

Draco's jaw clenched to reel in a sarcastic response.

Levinson smoothed out a particularly long piece of parchment on the coffee table. "Do you recognize any of these?"

Mother and son scanned the long list of names in silence.

"Some." Narcissa responded with half lidded eyes, her demeanor cold but graceful. "What is this list for?"

"All of those names are part of the ministry's newly formed organization." Levinson paused to take a sip of his now stale tea, coughing at the unpleasant way the lukewarm liquid trailed down his throat. "I'm sure you don't need me to explain any further?"

"The Order of the Phoenix." Narcissa concluded.

"Built to honor the memory of the legendary Dumbledore." Levinson added as he nodded in affirmation. "A separate department that aims to dissolve discrimination, not only among wizards and witches, but across all forms of magical creatures as well."

"Why now?"

All eyes were on the Malfoy heir, who until then, had chosen to stay silent.

"Why form this organization now? _Two years_ after the war is over?"

Levinson sighed once again as he folded his arms over his rounded belly. "Your guess is as good as mine. But the propaganda they're pushing is to ensure that no such living creature will ever undergo any form of discrimination, or unjust treatment whatsoever. The ministry claims they've been organizing this for almost a year, but only now took precedence because war damages had to be prioritized."

Draco folded his arms across his chest. "So where do we stand in all of this?"

"Unfortunately, I have it on good authority that your family is in the top list of those 'under probation' by The Order."

Narcissa slowly placed the ledger beside the lone parchment stretched out on the coffee table. She smoothed her hands through both sides of her head, fingers touching the tight low bun on the nape of her neck. Without a word, she made her way over to the window, letting her eyes sweep over the vast land of the Malfoy lineage as the sun began to set.

Levinson's gaze landed on the plush chair he had been so used to seeing Lucius on whenever he would be called into his study for business. It's been a year and a half since he'd been sentence to life in Azkaban.

"Why your family? Why not go after other purebloods who also served under the Dark Lord?" Levinson voiced out their unspoken query, taking their silence as a signal to continue.

"The union of the Black-Malfoy families, both members of the sacred twenty-eight, is the _epitome_ of a pureblood family." He paused to glance at the Malfoy heir pointedly. "Your ancestry is the oldest, richest and most influential; arguably the most famous as well. Wealth begets influence which begets popularity, and the cycle begins all over again. If I were to take an educated guess, I would say that The Order plans to purge the old dogma of pureblood superiority by making a public spectacle of how they could break, or rather _tame_ the Malfoys."

Levinson watched Draco's knuckles turn deathly pale, nearly purplish, at how hard he was clutching his goblet of firewhiskey. He sighed. The poor boy was drinking himself to waste and the sun hadn't even set.

Narcissa turned around, her expression flat as she folded her hands across her chest. The movement made the fabric of her velvet green dress swirl across her shins. "I don't understand Zack. My son and I have served both our sentences. We've paid off all the war reparations demanded from us. My husband is serving a lifetime in Azkaban as we speak. What more do they want?"

"Again, your guess is as good as mine." He echoed, giving the Malfoy matriarch a weary glance.

"I know it'll be hard. No. It'll be _very_ hard from now own. Especially with all the support The Order gets from the Wizarding world. But…" Levinson paused, seemingly unsure. "I think there may be a way."

Narcissa raised an eyebrow, her initial unfeeling demeanor morphed into a mix of interest and hope. She nodded for him to continue.

Draco narrowed his eyes skeptically at the uncertainty he could sense off of Levinson.

"The Order sees your family as a threat, so it would be natural that most, if not all, eyes would be on you. So I began to think…" Levinson stood up, pacing the room as he clutched one hand on the top of his balding head. "Why not find an ally who could convince the Order that your family's stance is no longer what they assume it to be?"

Narcissa said nothing, but if the way her eyebrows furrowed was any indication, one could tell she was just as confused as she was intrigued.

"What I'm referring to, is a public display of your family's support for The Order." Levinson answered.

"Do you hear yourself?" Draco scoffed in disbelief. He was done holding his tongue. "Do you honestly think people would believe that the Malfoys agree with the stance of The Order?" He paused to glance at his mother, who avoided his gaze. "That we would march out and lobby for the equality of all magical creatures? Attend meetings and protests about how house elves should be set free? How sea monsters and flobberworms should be seen as creatures with rights?"

He paused to catch his breath, releasing a huff of indignation that filled the silence in the room.

"It's dim-witted, and you know it." He shook his head as he downed the rest of his drink, numb to the fire that trickled down his throat. "And even if we did support it, no one, and I mean _no one_ , would ever believe it." He finished with a tone of finality.

"I know." Came Levinson's deadpan response.

Draco's anger spiked up tenfold. "Then why the hell are you suggesting it?!"

"I know I said that your family should show a public support for The Order, but not in the way you thought it would be." Levinson paused, mirth evident in his eyes as he tried to restrain his laughter. "I'm offended that you would think I would advise something that second rate."

Draco gritted his teeth as he bit down a reply full of expletives.

"What I am referring to is a more indirect, slightly inconspicuous, but greatly effective way of showing to the public that yes, the Malfoys _are_ in favor of The Order's movement." Levinson grinned, straightening up his spine in a gesture of confidence.

Narcissa moved back to sit on the couch she had earlier shared with her son. "Get to the point Zack."

With a nod, Levinson turned his gaze towards Draco, raising his hand to the level of his eye. "Do you know what this is boy?" Happiness seem to radiate around him as he showed off his ring.

Draco narrowed his eyes and responded flatly. "A wedding ring."

"Correct." He nodded as he gave the Malfoy heir a meaningful look.

"Marriage?" Draco's face had a tired look that said he's had this conversation so many times he's already lost count. He ran a hand through his hair, not being able to bite back the sarcasm. "What? You want me to find another influential pureblood family? Join forces with them? Create an equally merry bunch to oppose The Order?"

"No. No. No. Haven't you listened to a word I said?"

Draco wanted to roll his eyes, annoyed that his family's solicitor missed the obvious jab.

"You have to show that you support the Order in a _subtle_ way." Levinson paused for emphasis. "Marriage is correct. But marriage to a pureblood, is not."

Draco's initial indifference shifted to a look of silent shock and disbelief. "You want me to marry a-" He couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence.

Levinson donned a goofy smile as he nodded in affirmation. "Marriage with a muggle-born witch!"

Levison felt the temperature in the room drop as he watched two identical sets of gray eyes shift. Mother and son remained silent and unmoving, their faces an impassive mask. Levinson sighed. He could almost hear their Occlumency at work.

It was Draco who finally cut through the silence. "Elaborate."

Clearing his throat, Levinson shifted his gaze to the current head of the Malfoy family. Narcissa sat still, her expression remained just as stone-faced as her son.

"Like I said, we need a subtle, clever gesture that inconspicuously equates to support. And I'm convinced that marriage to a muggle-born would have to be the best choice." Levinson began, outlining the details of his plan further. "Joining The Order, participating in their gatherings, or even publicly pledging allegiance would result to even more suspicion."

He stood up and began to pace the room once more, the nervous energy was back with a vengeance. He could feel the nerves in his spine tingling. "But remaining in status quo isn't an option either. Indifference will give The Order the opportunity to incriminate you further."

Levinson paused from his pacing to glance first at the Malfoy family matriarch, then to its heir. "The war may have ended two years ago, but there is still so much displaced hatred and revenge. Those people in The Order? Most of them have experienced discrimination and persecution in one way or another. Not all their intentions are for the greater good. So if they choose to persecute you, it will be a difficult battle."

"Well bloody fucking great." Draco replied monotonously. "They might as well just lock us up in Azkaban."

"Draco. Language." Narcissa threw a pointed gaze at her son for his lack of poise, before turning her attention back to Levinson. "So the decision you deem best for us, is to have my son marry a muggle-born?"

"Yes." Levinson nodded. "It is the best decision you can take in order to appease The Order."

Draco let out a long, irritated sigh. "Explain to me how that differs from my earlier examples of ass kissing."

Narcissa threw him another look of admonishment for his use of such a crass term.

"I thought you would never ask!" Levinson grinned widely, pulling out a large black envelope from his satchel before settling it to his side. "Marrying just _any_ insignificant muggle-born witch would be pointless."

Draco slouched back on the leather couch uncaring, letting his eyes dart from the envelope to the ceiling. "And that is?"

"A possible key to the resolution of your problems with the Order." Levinson pushed the hidden file towards Draco, watching it slide across the table seamlessly. "I've done some research about all possible muggle-born females you can wed." He paused. Uncertainty crossed his features. "You are into females, right?"

Narcissa's felt her lips part slightly at the comment. Glancing over to her son, she watched as he waved a hand off in nonchalance.

"Women. Men. Werewolves. Giants. Sea creatures. Veela. Heck, let's throw in house elves into the mix as well." Draco raised his head to gaze at his family's advisor with a condescending smirk. "Let's throw them all in!"

"Draco, you're not helping." Narcissa closed her eyes and let out a breath. "A female is fine."

"I see! Then we have no problem. No problem at all!" Levinson chirped happily as if he'd just asked a simple question about the weather.

"There you have the profile of the most ideal conquest for you." He paused, pointing a stubby finger towards the black envelope sitting just within Draco's reach. "Not only will associating with this muggle-born ease The Order's doubt, it will also add a different kind of honor to your already prestigious family history."

Hearing this, Draco straightened his posture, curiosity getting the better of him. Who the hell was this muggle-born female that a Malfoy would actually be honored to wed?

Levinson raised his eyebrows, both palms up, gesturing the Malfoy heir to open it.

Narcissa spared one look at her son, before straining her neck to get a glimpse of the envelope's contents. She watched as he barely took a peek before pushing the scraps of paper back in, placing the file down quickly onto the coffee table.

Levinson waited apprehensively for a reaction. He expected the Malfoy heir to shout, tear the envelope into bits, curse at him, and then throw him out of the house. Surprisingly, he did no such thing.

Trying hard to swallow his anger and murderous intent, Draco raised his head to glare death at Levinson. He wished, for once, that looks could kill. "Are you fucking serious?"

Narcissa pulled out the file, raising an eyebrow in interest and amusement. "Ms. Granger?" Suddenly, a flashback of shrieks coming from the drawing room echoed in her head, draining all color from her face. She may not have been there when it happened, but she heard every moment of it.

Clearing his throat, Levinson directed his attention back to the grown man who looked livid enough to throw an unforgivable at him. "I'm well aware of your, ah, history with Ms. Granger."

"If you've indeed done your research, then you'd know that I'd sooner shack up with a hippogriff than marry that bloody bucktooth beaver! And I can assure you, the feeling would be mutual."

Levinson couldn't help but laugh at the Malfoy heir's choice of words. He was well aware that he and the female member of the Golden Trio weren't in good terms; but what he hadn't known was the fact that Draco's disdain for the woman ran both so deep, and so shallow at the same time. "You know what they say. There's a very thin line between love and hate."

"Sod off!" Draco face contorted into a look of pure disgust.

"Think about it." Levinson began as he held out his fingers. "Miss Granger is part of the Golden Trio. A member of the original Order of the Phoenix. The smartest witch Hogwarts has _ever_ known-"

"An obvious exaggeration." Draco counteracted through gritted teeth. He didn't need yet another reminder of how a muggle-born girl beat him at almost every single class.

"Ms. Granger is also currently one of the best healers at St. Mungo's. Rumor has it that in a year or less, she'll be bestowed the position of one of the head healers."

Draco clenched his jaw as tightly as he could to reel in his temper. He tried his best to ignore it, but every single time Levinson mentioned her name, bouts of blood curdling screams resounded in his ear. He shook his head as subtly as he could, as if the gesture would rid himself of the memory.

Levinson leaned towards Draco as he looked him in the eye. "Face it. She's as good a choice as it gets. I did my research. No other muggle-born can surpass what she's done, and what she probably will achieve."

"You sound quite convinced she's perfect." Draco replied flatly, as he pretended to pick out an imaginary piece of lint off his shoulder.

Levinson blinked at the glassy gray eyes that now started at him. Occlumency, once again it seems. He wondered how often the Malfoy heir subjected himself to the act. "I am. Yes." He nodded as he leaned back on his chair, the soft cushion relaxing him. "She's the best choice."

"Alright. Then let me tell you something." Draco nodded once, placing his drink softly on the table, before fixing his gaze onto the imbecile before him. "Something not even your foolhardy research can tell you."

Standing up, Draco raised a finger towards a specific direction. Narcissa knew exactly where his argument was leading.

"Two years ago. There. In the west wing drawing room." He paused, as if he was seeing it happen all over again. "She lay bleeding, screaming, nearly dying, as my Aunt Bella tortured her with glee."

Narcissa watched as Levinson's jaw drop, his eyes glued on the menacing look her son threw at him.

"So how do you suppose the courtship would begin? Hm?" Draco had his arms folded on his chest, speaking to their solicitor as if he were a child. "Hey Granger! Remember me? Long time, huh? Last time we saw each other was on trial. On mine first, then my parents', am I right?"

"Draco." Came Narcissa's exasperated tone. Of all the qualities he could have gotten from Lucius, why did he have to inherit his biting sarcasm?

Ignoring his mother's warning tone, he continued. "So how's it been? Me? Oh I've just been on house arrest for the past year with magical restraints and all. Now I'm left with just another year on parole. My mother just got back a couple of months ago after a year in Azkaban. Say, how about we catch up over tea and biscuits over at the manor? You'll love what we've done with the place, _specially_ the west wing drawing room-"

"Draco!"

Narcissa rarely ever shouted. So when she did, Draco knew when to stop.

Picking up his initially discarded goblet of firewhiskey, Draco smirked at the now silent, uncomfortable figure of Zachary Levinson. The obese lawyer couldn't meet him in the eye. "Just proving a point mother."

"Something you could have done in more ways than one." Standing up to head to the door, Narcissa held it open before glancing at his son in reproach. "You may leave."

Draco blinked, taken aback by the seemingly extreme response from his mother. "But we're not done."

Narcissa said nothing more, her eyes boring into the identical ones staring defiantly back at her.

With a resigned sigh, Draco stomped out of his father's study.

"My apologies." Narcissa moved back to the couch, eyeing the still silent man before her. "My son has a rather… _strange_ sense of humor."

"It's my fault for not knowing." Levinson replied in a quiet voice.

Narcissa shook her head. "The details of the trial were not made public. Only those present during it know of Ms. Granger's statements. And of course, those who were there in the drawing room to witness it."

"Was Draco…?"

Narcissa nodded. "He was there. Next to my husband and my sister."

Levinson sighed, releasing a breath with a mixture of frustration, shock, disbelief and resignation.

"For what it's worth…" Narcissa began, a small smile on her face. "All things considered, it was a good plan."

Levinson blinked in surprise, his eyebrows rising all the way up through the expanse of forehead. Now that was something he certainly didn't expect. He wanted her to clarify what she meant, but the telling look in her eyes told him to hold his tongue. He sighed once again, deciding to let it go.

"There's one more thing." Digging through the files in his satchel, he gave the Malfoy matriarch an apologetic glance. "As the head of your legal affairs, I was summoned this morning to present this to you."

The sight of the pristine golden envelope filled her with dread.

* * *

Draco let out an irritated sigh when he heard incessant knocking on his door. It was half past midnight, and he was already in his pajamas. He just wanted to be left in peace. Muttering colorful profanities under his breath as he stomped to the door, he hauled it open in annoyance.

"Draco."

Coughing to hide his irritability, he dragged a weary hand over his face. "Mother."

"There's something you need to see."

Eyeing the familiar black envelope in his mother's grasp, Draco gritted his teeth. "If this is about that ridiculous-"

"No." Narcissa cut him off, as she turned the black envelope to its side, revealing the golden one tucked beneath it. "It's not."

Draco blinked, his eyes glued on the golden envelope as realization dawned to him. "The Ministry?"

Narcissa remained quiet as she handed both envelopes to her son. She said nothing more as she turned away to leave.

Confused and anxious, Draco closed the door to his room before heading swiftly over to the couch across his fireplace. Chucking Granger's file onto the desk in front of him, he clawed out the folded parchment, not bothering to handle it with care as he straightened it out.

_This is to inform you that in a week's time, The Order of the Phoenix will be taking hold of the Malfoy manor for investigative purposes in relation to He-who-must-not-be-named. In the interest of public security, it is our duty to eliminate possible threats that could be brought about by leniency in judgment._

_In line with this, a minimum of 90 days probation will be put on the Malfoy manor, an infrastructure known to have served as the Dark Lord's nest for unknown number of years. We understand that it has been swept for dark artifacts and other potentially dangerous magical items weeks after the Dark Lord's passing. However, we request for your understanding as we seek to employ a more thorough examination for the wellbeing of your manor's inhabitants, and potentially, the safety of the entire wizarding community._

_The Malfoy manor will be handled with utmost care and consideration. Any damages acquired during the probationary period will be reimbursed. The Ministry will be providing a temporary settlement for you, shouldering all your living expenses, throughout the course of this investigation. More details regarding this matter will be provided in two days' time._

_We apologize for the inconvenience and we appreciate your cooperation._

Draco stared at the Ministry's signature seal with disgust. It was beginning. Just as Levinson predicted.

"Bloody bastards!" Grabbing the half empty glass of firewhiskey on the table, he hurled it angrily at the flames. The rage in his eyes reflected the fury of the fire.

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, he began pacing the room like a madman. Was their penance ever going to end? Was his father's life sentence not enough? Was a year in Azkaban too light of a reprimand for his mother? Was his house arrest too lenient of a punishment?

There was no way he would let things end like this. Who did the ministry think they were?

His eyes landed on the large black envelope strewn carelessly on his wooded oak table. He stood still. The way the light of the flames dance around it taunted him in a way that was both eerie and entrancing. He swallowed. Would he dare?

Pulling it towards him as he sank onto the couch, he cursed out loud. Just the fact that he was even allowing himself to deliberate this made him realize just how royally fucked he was.


	2. St. Mungos

Hemione raised her head as a knock resounded from her door. Shifting her attention back to the files on her neatly organized desk, she cleared her throat. "Come in."

"Healer Granger?" A tall but scrawny mediwizard peeked through the partially opened door. His dark hair was ruffled, no doubt from overwork, and the thick lens of his glasses obscured his matching dark eyes. "I know you're currently off duty, but unfortunately you're needed for a patient."

Hermione waved her hand in the air in a gesture of nonchalance. "It's fine. What room?" She stood up from her chair, packing away the remaining files she was reviewing.

"Room 1008."

Hermione let out a sigh as she nodded. Rooms with 1000 labels were made especially for the rich, and they were the most difficult patients to deal with. Not to mention that most of them were of pureblood decent. In the few instances she had been assigned to that floor, few had been willing to accept her services, no matter how stellar her track record was.

"I'll be right there. Do you happen to know the reason for admission?" Hermione moved to grab her pen and clipboard.

"Oh uh, the patient is suffering from a high grade fever." The mediwizard replied, pushing the rim of his glasses further onto his nose.

Hermione paused to glance incredulously at the mediwizard who looked just as baffled as she was. "A fever?" She reiterated. She specialized in poisoning and dark curses. They didn't need someone like her to deal with something as minor as a fever. "Perhaps internal medicine can help with this one." She failed to hide the bite in her tone.

The lanky wizard replied with an uncertain smile, hands wringing each other in a gesture of discomfort. "It seems the patient requested for your services specifically, Healer Granger."

Narrowing her eyes skeptically, Hermione sent him away with a nod. Petty little pranks like these weren’t knew to her. She didn’t particularly get along with a few of the more ‘traditional’ pureblood healers. They were always out for a laugh at her expense. She grit her teeth, slamming the door to her office on the way out. If this was another one of their shenanigans, she would definitely have a word with them later.

Marching briskly towards the 1008th room, she reached out for the knob only to have the door fly open before her. Taking a few steps back, Hermione watched as a healer bowed respectfully at someone inside the room, before closing it slowly and quietly.

Standing in front of her was Gregory Husslehurf. Hermione watched as he raised his pointed nose up in the air, looking down on her from under his nose. The gesture made him seem taller than she was, though they were nearly of the same height. She tried her best not to stare at his flat, choppy, greasy brown hair. Instead, opting to focus her gaze between his eyes, ignoring the bulging cheekbones that made the man more like a walking skeleton. His ashen, pale skin helped him look the part as well.

Hermione really didn’t understand where the haughty pureblood was channeling all his bravado from. He may have been a year older than she was, but it was no question that he was far inferior to her in skills.

Staring at Hermione from head to toe and back, Gregory scoffed. "I don't know what kind of joke this is, but it seems you've done a few things to climb yourself up the social ladder."

Hermione released a tired sigh. She really didn’t want to deal with him this late in the evening. "What are you talking about?"

"Enjoy your popularity now Granger, because I assure you it won't last very long." With that, Husslehurf walked away rather begrudgingly.

Hermione glanced at the room with a growing curiosity. Given Husslehurf’s bitter countenance, it seemed someone famous came to ask for her services. Schooling her demeanor into a calm professional one, she swung the door open, greeting her patient with a nod.

"Good morning. I'm Healer-"

"Granger." A monotonous voice cut her off almost immediately. "You definitely took your time didn't you?"

Hermione gaped in disbelief. This was not happening.

"What if I was on the brink of death? Honestly."

Hermione could only blink. There, sitting upright on the middle of the plush white bed wearing a hospital gown, was none other than the Slytherin bane of her existence, Draco Malfoy. She watched as he placed a hand over his eyes before dramatically dropping back onto the bed. His face contorted into a grimace of pain as his head hit the pillow.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione mustered every single professional cell in her body, praying she would get through this ordeal without being sued. It was simple. All she had to do was to ignore everything and anything unrelated to her job. After all, she's handled a lot worse.

"Good day, Mr. Malfoy. Can you tell me your current symptoms and what exactly you were doing when you first experienced them?"

"I was moving. Headache. Nausea. Light headedness. Fatigue. Extreme irritability."

 _That last one isn't new._ Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from making inappropriate remarks. "Moving?"

"Things." Malfoy vaguely responded. "I feel like I got punched in the gut and my brain won't stop doing somersaults." He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he tugged at the collar of the dreary dressing gown he wore. "It feels like a furnace in here. Strip this ridiculous piece of cloth off my body." His breathless tone took the force out of his command.

Hermione ignored his last statement as she continued to look over his chart of tests. It seems the healers who admitted him did everything as expected. Glancing at Malfoy's irritable demeanor blankly, she continued to ask routine questions. "How about feelings of heaviness? Sharp pain anywhere else in your body? Numbness?"

"None."

“Have you noticed a certain change in your sleep patterns and appetite levels prior to the onset of the symptoms?”

“No.”

"Is there anything else you're currently feeling?"

Draco turned his glazed gaze towards the annoying Gryffindor who wouldn't stop asking him questions. "I feel like punching someone in the face."

Hermione sighed. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Draco winced as he forced the disgusting formula down his throat. "Why can't bloody healers formulate better tasting medicine? With all the advancements in magic one would think they could make ones that don't taste like a Hippogriff's bad breath!"

He let out an exhausted sigh as he shifted his attention towards the petite mediwitch assisting him by his bedside. He was sure that if he stood up, she would barely reach the edge of his shoulders. "Where's Granger? Will you tell her to head back here to check on me? I'm her patient for Merlin's sake." He didn't miss the way her gaze dropped to the mark on his exposed forearm before shifting her gaze back to the floor.

"But Mr. Malfoy, your condition has stabilized and Healer Granger is currently attending to-"

Draco's icy glare silenced her instantly.

"I've been here for two days now, and she only came over once yesterday. How can one short visit assure me that my condition has stabilized? What if this was some sort of terminal illness? Would _you_ take responsibility for my death?"

The mediwitch could only shake her head in response.

"Then bring Granger. _Immediately."_ He demanded through gritted teeth.

Bowing quickly, the woman scurried out of the room. The last thing she needed was to get dragged into the affairs of a former death eater, who also happened to be the heir to one of the most powerful pureblood families in all of the Wizarding world.

The moment the door shut, Draco immediately slapped himself on the forehead, letting out a frustrated growl. Absolutely _nothing_ was going according to plan. He was supposed to go to St. Mungo's, ask for Granger to specifically handle his case, win her sympathy, build some rapport, then provide a gesture of thanks - a gift of gratitude, or perhaps even a date if he would allow himself to be so optimistic. But he knew there was no way in hell that would happen. Granger barely even spent ten minutes near his bedside.

He also forgot to factor one thing – how irritable he gets whenever he got sick. He tried his best to calm down, reminding himself exactly why he was doing this.

The potion he concocted gave him three days of high grade fever at best. The least he could do was be civil enough with her until his eventual discharge. Besides, he needed information, and he needed to start rumors.

A soft knock resounded from his door. "Mr Malfoy?" Came the saccharine tone. "We've come to check your vitals."

Draco sighed in annoyance as he heard two sets of giggles coming from the door. It was those two mediwitches, yet again, who were so _thorough_ with their routine physical tests. He was pretty sure combing his bangs out of the way and feeling his forehead with their palms wasn't the best way to test for his temperature. Nor did they need to strip off the upper portion of his hospital gown to check for his heart and respiratory rate.

Deciding he didn't want to be bothered, he did the next best thing his exhausted body could do – pretend to sleep.

The door creaked softly as it opened.

"Aw, he's asleep!" One of the voices cooed as Draco felt a cold hand on his cheek. He felt a shift of weight. Both women seemed to have stationed themselves on each side of his bed.

"He's so handsome." Another voice whined in response. "And fit!"

A couple of stifled giggles came from both women as another set of hands seem to thread through his platinum locks.

"Have you heard of the latest rumor in the hospital?" One of the voices suddenly grew quiet.

"What?"

"It seems he's closely affiliated with Healer Granger!"

Draco stifled his grin. It seems the rumors were already spreading.

The other woman gasped in response. "Closely affiliated how? But wait, isn't Healer Granger a muggle-born?"

"Exactly!" Came a hushed exasperated tone. "Which makes it more suspicious! Why would Mr. Malfoy specifically request for Healer Granger as his sole case handler?"

"I'd like to know the answer to that as well."

Both mediwitches turned around in surprise at the monotonous voice that cut through their gossiping. They were on their feet in a split second.

"Healer Granger!"

Standing a few paces from the door, Hermione shifted her gaze back and forth between the two women and the unconscious figure lying on the bed. "What were the two of you doing exactly?"

"W-We were just-"

"We came by to um-"

Hermione sighed in exasperation, folding both of her hands across her chest. "I'm pretty sure what you both were doing could equate to sexual harassment."

Both women shook their heads frantically, raising their hands in a gesture of defeat.

"Oh but we really weren't-!"

"We swear!"

"And in addition to that." Hermione paused as she tilted her head towards Malfoy's sleeping form. "You were gossiping instead of doing your jobs."

Both mediwitches continued to apologize in a frenzied manner.

Hermione raised a hand to silence them both. "If I catch both of you doing this again, I'll file a report. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, of course Healer Granger!"

"We promise it won't happen again."

Hermione sighed once again. She could never understand what women saw in Malfoy. It's been this way since their time in Hogwarts, but never did she imagine it would persist well into adulthood. "Have someone else assigned to monitor Mr. Malfoy."

Both women nodded dejectedly.

"You may leave."

Hermione moved to close the door as they headed out. She shook her head in disbelief. "Unbelievable."

"Took the words right out of my mouth."

She flinched at the quiet but sudden drawl that came unexpected. "You were awake?" She watched him nod slowly, noticing the way his eyes drooped tiredly. 

"Those two have been acting quite familiar with me. I didn’t have the energy to spare, so I figured perhaps if I pretended to sleep, they'd leave me alone." He cleared his throat, hoping to rid his voice of its flaccid tone. "Apparently it was the wrong decision."

Hermione didn't know if she should laugh or scoff at Malfoy's pitiful reasoning skills. Perhaps the fever was taking a toll on his intellect.

"Are you feeling better?"

Draco blinked, taken aback by her question. "I never thought I’d live to see the day you would actually care about my current wellbeing."

Hermione responded with a piercing look. "Mr. Malfoy, I am your healer. It's my job. Or did you not request for me specifically?"

Draco shrugged, ignoring her attempt at understanding his underlying intentions. "I guess it takes some getting used to. And drop the ‘Mister Malfoy’, would you? It makes me feel old." He lied. Hearing that title reminded him of someone he wasn't particularly in the mood to think about.

"As your healer, how would you prefer I address you then?"

"Draco."

Now it was Hermione's turn to blink, unsure of how to respond.

"I think it's about time we stopped referencing each other with our last names. It seems rather childish, don’t you think?"

Hermione eyed him skeptically, ignoring the seemingly amiable demeanor he had. "I, for one, would very much appreciate it if you referred to me as Healer Granger, Mr. Draco."

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Again with the mister."

"It's hospital policy that we address our patients with such honorifics, sir. It's to keep all relations professional." She reasoned.

"Fine." Draco knew he had to choose his battles carefully. This one he would have to bypass.

"Glad you understand." Hermione began as she moved towards his beside. She scanned the file hung by his beside wall, reviewing the test results carefully. "It seems your results keep coming out normal, but for some reason, your fever continues to remain high despite proper medication."

Draco raised both palms up in a gesture of acknowledgement. "Finally, someone notices." He sighed. "Although you probably would have, had you not been avoiding me."

Hermione turned her gaze onto the accusatory man lying a few inches away from where she stood. "I beg your pardon?"

He shrugged in response. "Just stating facts. You only ever dropped by once, and you barely even checked on me."

"Mr. Malfoy-"

"Draco."

She took a deep breath to calm herself down. " _Mister_ Draco."

He rolled his eyes at her obstinacy.

"I'll have you know that this hospital's protocol states that people with a case such as yours only require a _daily_ doctor visit. Routine vital logs and testing for monitoring are done by the _mediwizards or mediwitches._ Any abnormalities are reported immediately to the primary Healer, who will, in turn, provide the appropriate intervention, or request for a referral to another medical department, if necessary." She paused to take a quick breath. "I would like to let you know, _Mister_ Draco, that I have not done anything remotely synonymous to negligence or malpractice."

"Is it not the patient's prerogative to request for more than one doctor visit in a day?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, unsure of where the conversation was going. "Well of course the patient has every right to-"

"Then why didn't you?" Draco stared back defiantly at the dark amber orbs glaring at him. "I've asked for an audience with you incessantly, and yet you wouldn’t even give me five minutes of your time."

"That's because-"

He raised a hand to silence her. "You were busy. You had other patients to attend to. I know. That's the excuse _all_ the mediwitches have been telling me." He paused, his gaze turned cold and calculating. "But answer this. Had I been a friend of yours, a wrinkly old lady, or a tiny young child, would you _really_ have been unable to spare me a few moments of your day?"

She opened her mouth to retort, but he beat her to it once more.

"Or perhaps if I had been Potter or Weasley, you would have offered me your entire day."

Draco watched in silent satisfaction as her gaze turned hard at the mention of those names. He knew it was taking everything she had not to lash out at him in this context.

There was hope. He had hope. Everything he'd done up until now had been worth it. If that simmering anger burning in her eyes told him something, it was that she wasn't over anything.

He watched with veiled fascination as the resentment in her gaze quickly faded into a neutral glance. It was sloppy and crude, and she looked somewhat unbalanced, but it was Occlumency nonetheless. Interesting. 

"Why did you ask for me?"

Draco stayed silent, waiting for his unyielding stare to unnerve her just a little bit before responding. "They say you're the best."

Hermione couldn't help but scoff. "Since when did you pay any heed towards other people's belief of my competence?" She narrowed her eyes at the nonchalant shrug he gave as a reply. It seems that was all she was getting out of him.

"Regardless, I would like to clarify that I did not, in any way, discriminate against you." She stood firm on her claim; her tone rigid and flat. "All I did was follow protocol."

"Yes. You followed the rules perfectly. Even if I were to complain, it would be written off as a privileged aristocrat's need to feel important, and not an actual act of discrimination." He paused, his ashen orbs never left the defiant dark ones that stared at him unfazed.

 _'You think you, of all people, have the right to complain about discrimination?',_ Hermione stopped herself from saying, opting for a safe textbook answer as a response. "I'll respect your opinion on that matter, Mr. Draco. Hopefully, you'll respect mine as well."

Draco nodded in understanding, saying nothing further as she announced her leave. There was no need to rile her up more than he already had. After all, he's gotten the information he needed.

The following morning, he would be discharged without further delay.


	3. Plans

"I see you're back from the hospital."

Glancing up from his comfortable position on the sofa, Draco took a sip from his glass, sighing at the delicious burning trail it drew down his throat.

"Come join me for a drink, Blaise."

"You rarely ask for company this late in the evening." Blaise sat down, watching the Malfoy heir pour him a generous amount of firewhiskey. "So what am I here for?" He took the glass he offered in one hand, raising a brow at the lack of an answer.

Draco said nothing, staring blankly at the dancing flames as he swirled his goblet of whiskey absentmindedly. 

"I heard a few rumors about you."

"Oh?"

"Read it in the papers."

Draco hummed offhandedly, still rolling the half empty glass in his hand. 

Blaise took a quick swig from his drink before placing it back on the glass table. He folded his arms across his chest, feeling a growing annoyance towards his tight-lipped companion. "It said you came to St. Mungo's requesting for Hermione Granger."

Draco tilted his head to one side in a gesture of contemplation. 

"Is it true?"

"What do you think?"

Letting out a sigh, Blaise leaned back against the soft velvet chair; hands dangling over the thick plush armrest. "I think you're planning something. And the fact that you called me here this late means I have a part in it."

Draco raised his glass towards him in affirmation. "I came upon a _very_ interesting piece of information a week ago."

Blaise narrowed his eyes. "This has something to do with that marriage proposal you told me about, am I right?"

Draco sighed at the empty bottle of firewhiskey, pushing himself up off the couch to get a new one. "I don't have to actually marry her. I just have to make it look like we have the _potential_ for marriage, long enough to get the ministry off my ass." He frowned, eying the cramped room he was in. "I don't think I can take living in this dump much longer."

Blaise took this opportunity to study the room. He glanced at the carpet streaked with white and gray fur, then to the matching plush dark gray velvet sofas, before landing on the luxurious glass coffee table across him. There was a generously stocked posh wooden liquor desk by the corner, and the furnace was adorned with legitimate silver trimmings.

It wasn't bad for a living room. But the measly two bedroom, two bathroom flat definitely failed in comparison to the Malfoy manor. It wasn't even a competition.

"So what's your plan?"

Draco smirked as he leaned against the liquor table, opening a new bottle of firewhiskey. "Like I said, I came upon a _very_ interesting piece of information."

"That being?"

"That being..." He paused to refill his empty glass. "Ron Weasley."

Blaise's eyebrows rose up to his forehead. "I see." He had an inkling where the conversation was headed.

"You're familiar with their history, right? I've only found out recently since I really don't give a _shit_ about their lives. But since you seem to read the news, I'm sure you've heard?"

Blaise nodded in affirmation. 

"It seems the weasel and the beaver had been dating after the war, but called it quits a couple of months ago." Draco paused to look at Blaise, beckoning him to continue. "And the reason?"

"Lavender Brown."

Draco downed his entire drink in one go, raising his now empty glass up towards him. "Lavender _fucking_ Brown!"

Blaise let out a tired sigh at the sight of the drunken blonde replenishing his glass once again. "I assume you already have a plan?"

"Have you ever read any classic romance novels?"

Blaise blinked at the pensive expression on the Malfoy heir's face, confused by the arbitrary question.

"The classics are rather… predictable, boring, highly uninspired." Draco paused, rolling the glass in his hand, clinkering the melted ice that floated on the surface. "The stories often revolve around two people, usually of opposing personalities, social status, belief systems, and so on."

Draco put down his drink on the liquor table, gesturing with his free hands to emphasize his point. "Rich aristocratic influential man falls in love with a seemingly average, of lower pedigree woman, or vice versa. Then, they go through _ridiculous_ amounts of _unrealistic_ plot twists to prove to the entire universe that they, indeed, belong together."

Blaise let out an exasperated sigh. Draco always had a weird way of straying off topic in the most random, senseless way. "I'm not sure where this is going but please, do go on speaking nonsense.

"In the end, they get to live 'happily ever after'." Draco paused to shrug nonchalantly to himself. "Well that, or it ends in a tragic character death." 

Blaise let out another sigh, allowing himself to slouch further on the couch. "Your point, if you actually have one."

"Ever since my visit at St. Mungos, people have been spreading rumors. You see, they've been speculating that Granger and I have some sort of 'secret relationship'. After all, why else would I ask specifically for her services?"

Blaise began to sit up, finally understanding where the conversation was going.

"Today I sent a dozen white roses to her office as a gesture of gratitude. Attached to it is a _sincere_ note of thanks. I'm assuming that will be on your beloved news by tomorrow." He smirked as he made his way back to the couch, taking the bottle of Odgen's along with him.

"And do you know what I hear people say, Blaise?"

"They say it's like a fairy tale come true."

"Exactly!" Draco exclaimed, slamming the bottle of whiskey enthusiastically against the coffee table as he flopped down onto the couch. "I hear old maidens _swoon_ at the idea of what Granger and I might have together. I hear young women giggle at the thought of the _cruel, prejudice pureblood aristocrat_ falling for the _simple, intelligent muggle-born woman._ Men pinning for women who they believe are out of their league sympathize with me, cheer me on!"

Blaise raised an eyebrow in amusement. Clearly the Malfoy heir was beyond drunk if he hadn't even noticed that he just complimented his alleged mortal enemy in more ways than one.

"Ordinary women who think that men such as myself are out of reach allow themselves to dream a little, hope a little! It's the beauty of the unattainable. The delicious seduction of the forbidden. Think about it. Two people who fought on opposing sides during the war, sworn mortal enemies, Gryffindor and Slytherin! In love? Why, this will be the talk of the century!"

As much as Blaise hated to admit, despite his drunken state, Draco actually had a point. Target the masses, not the ones in power. Appeal to the majority. The ministry may hold in their hands the right to judge, but the view of the masses, especially now in this new era where equality was held at utmost importance, was the key.

If Draco was able to sway the masses to his side, the ministry wouldn't be able to touch him so easily.

"You actually had a point amidst all that rambling." Blaise shook his head in disbelief. 

"Now this is where you come in." Draco paused, pointing towards the other Slytherin in the room. "I need information on Weasley – where and when he works, where he usually hangs out, where he goes with his family, and most importantly, where he and Brown go out on dates. I need every single bit of information I can get on both of them."

Blaise nodded, finally understanding the role he had to play in all this. Draco was still under probation with the Ministry practically breathing down his throat. One wrong move and it could all be over for him. He didn't need more grounds for suspicion.

"And what are you planning to do with that information?" 

"As beautifully bittersweet my story with Granger is, it won't blossom if I don't get an appropriate reaction from her. So I thought to myself, how can I make the stuck up, self-righteous know-it-all agree to my plan? What can she possibly get from helping me out?"

Blaise had half a mind to take the glass of firewhiskey away from the drunk Malfoy heir when he saw him down another glass in one go.

"The answer is _revenge_."

"What makes you think she would want that?" Blaise let out an exasperated sigh when he saw Draco refill his glass once again. "She's self-righteous and self-sacrificing to a fault. What if she doesn't want revenge?"

"You didn't see her back at the hospital. One mention of Weasley's name and she saw red." Draco chuckled to himself, twirling the glass in his hand. "She may be self-sacrificing and self-righteous, but that doesn't make her incapable of feeling things like anger, hatred... _envy."_

"But how are you even going to get her to cooperate?"

Draco let out a slow, steady breath. "You leave that part to me. Once I put my plan into action, she'll have no choice but to agree."

Blaise tried his best to conceal his curiosity, but as ridiculous as his plan sounded, something about it seemed intriguing and brilliant. He cleared his throat. "Care to share?"

Draco raised an amused brow at Blaise's attempt at feigning nonchalance. "Why so interested? I was under the impression you found my plans to be absolutely ludicrous."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "You have to admit it did sound like that at first." 

Draco smirked at the annoyed expression on the other Slytherin's face. "For now, I have five essential pawns to manipulate. Care to guess who they are?"

Blaise sighed in exasperation. Why couldn't he just say it? "Granger is pretty obvious. So is Weasley." He drawled, pausing to note the quick nod from the Malfoy heir.

"Brown is one as well, seeing that she's the alleged reason for the break-up."

Draco tilted his head in a gesture of affirmation once again.

"I put my money on Potter too." The answer earned Blaise a soundless thumbs-up from the blonde who was too busy drinking more of the firewhiskey in his hand.

"Ginny Weasley?"

"No."

"The Weasley twins?"

"Just so we can save time, the last pawn in _not_ a Weasley." Draco couldn't help but roll hos eyes. "Merlin knows how many of them there are."

"Someone we know from Hogwarts?"

"No."

"Someone in the Ministry-"

"No."

"Someone from the current Order of-"

"No."

"Someone working at St. Mun-"

"No."

Blaise clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Then who is it?"

"Oh but Blaise!" Draco paused to down the rest of his drink. "Where's the fun in telling you right now?"

Blaise glowered, choosing to keep his mouth shut to avoid the colorful string of profanities waiting to be set free.

"You'll find the last pawn's name written clearly in black ink while you read your beloved news."

Blaise grumbled, understanding that that was all he was getting for now. This was definitely an aspect of Draco's personality that irked him to no end — the propensity for mystery and the flair for dramatics.

"So how are you going to do it?"

"Do what?" Draco brought his freshly refilled glass to his lips.

"Make Granger fall for you."

Draco choked, squinting at the tears in his eyes and the burning pain in his throat. Placing his glass carelessly on the table, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Who the _hell_ said anything about making her fall for me?"

Blaise raised a challenging eyebrow in response. "How else will you convince people? I don't know how much Granger has changed, but if I recall correctly, she can't lie to save her _life_. And if you look at your history, she's going to have to be a better liar than anyone else. Even you."

Draco placed a hand against his chest in a gesture of mock agony. "I'm hurt by your view of me."

Blaise sent him a silent, knowing look.

"Fine. Fine." He waved a hand in the air. "I never said anything about making her _fall_ for me. Although if she does, I can understand. After all, how could she not?"

Blaise could only roll his eyes.

"But like I said, I'm not out to _woo_ her. I'm just after her approval to play along as my... fiancé, girlfriend, date... Whatever!"

"And like I said, she _sucks_ as a liar. Can you actually envision her as someone who can sit with you during dinner? Laugh at your jokes? Hold your hand? Hug you? Kiss-"

"You're getting too ahead of yourself."

Blaise looked at Draco incredulously as if he'd just grown a pair of Veela wings. "How the hell are you going to convince people you're a couple if you don't exhibit public displays of affection?"

"I'm not saying we _won't."_ Draco replied with a scrunched up face in disgust. "All I'm saying is that it won't happen soon. But when the time comes, I can, and I will handle it." He finished with fervor and finality.

Blaise sighed in defeat, deciding to let it go, choosing to point out a more obvious dilemma instead. "Draco, in all honesty, before you can even think of any of those, you haven't even addressed the single, most important thing." He paused to give the Malfoy heir a serious look. "How are you going to make her agree? I understand the use of Weasley and Brown. But that alone isn't enough. The problem here is you, mate."

Draco narrowed his eyes at his statement. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means she has to deal with _you._ And I'm sure I'm not the only one who remembers clearly how much you tortured her back at Hogwarts. Let's say she _is_ jealous of Brown and Weasley. It doesn't necessarily correlate to her accepting your proposal."

Draco stayed silent, taking a slow sip from his glass. "My, my… Aren't you just loquacious today?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow at the mocking tone of the Malfoy heir, clearly entertained. "Don't have a plan for that yet, huh?"

"I'll take your incessant need to locate loop holes in my plans as constructive."

"I'm not trying to foil your plans, Draco. I'm just trying to make you see that it may not be as simple as it looks." Blaise folded his arms on his chest. "As 'brilliant' as your plan is, it'll all go to waste if you can't even get past the first step – getting Granger to agree."

Draco stayed silent; his eyes on the dancing flames.

Blaise grabbed his long-forgotten glass of firewhiskey off the table, taking a small sip out of it. He was still on his first round while Draco was on his... He sighed. He lost count. 

"Do you know why the idea of a 'bad boy' appeals to women?"

"Huh?" Blaise looked at Draco incredulously. Was he seriously going to start rambling again? 

"Hot then cold. Mean then kind. Indifferent then sweet." Draco paused to refill his glass, annoyed at it for being empty once again. "They adore the idea of having some rugged, untamable man fall hopelessly in love with them."

"And that's what you're planning to do?" Blaise failed to stop the scoff of amusement that escaped his throat. "Hate to break it to you mate, but for her you don't just spell 'bad boy'. You spell 'foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach'."

Draco felt his eye twitch in annoyance. "The 'bad boy' image is for the _majority._ Not for Granger. The bad boy should be 'good' towards his female mate, but 'bad' towards the majority. But like we've established earlier, I absolutely have to be 'good' to the majority." He paused, pretending to think. "But then again, just what exactly is 'good' for the majority?"

Blaise massaged his temples to soothe his irritation. Draco wasn't making a lick of sense. 

"I'll remain the 'bad boy' in the eyes of the masses. Tactless, ill-tempered and disrespectful... _But..."_ Draco paused, a distinctive glint evident his in eyes, similar to that of a madman's. "Whenever Granger is there, I'll show them how I _change_. They'll see how _smitten_ the infamous Malfoy heir is with the Golden Girl. They'll gossip and fantasize about how perfect we are for each other! Do you understand, Blaise?"

"I'm sure that will get the universe to agree that you two are simply perfect for each other." Came Blaise's sarcastic, flat tone, as he eyed the blonde drunk chuckling right across from him. The Malfoy heir was oversimplifying the entire situation way too much. He kept answering in circles, when in fact, he had no concrete plan.

"That." Draco paused for emphasis, eyes darkening. His voice was quiet now, barely above a whisper. "And to finally convince the world that I, Draco Malfoy, and my family, are followers of Voldemort no longer." His smirked returned; tone shifting back into a teasing one. "Don't forget that one important detail."

Blaise remained silent as he studied Draco's demeanor. They've never spoken about the war. Whenever he would ask him how he was dealing, he would always change the topic or insert an annoying remark that would have both of them arguing in the next minute.

Blaise bit the inside of his cheek. Now was not the time for that. Draco would definitely redirect the entire thing and have both of them screaming at each other by the end of the night. He sighed. He really wasn't in the mood to be pissed.

"And Granger? You only ever talked about appealing to the masses. What about her?"

"Rationality."

Blaise watched Draco's rigid form visibly relax from the corner of his eye, no doubt relieved that he didn't pry. 

"You see, Granger is one of the people who has witnessed every single negative aspect of my personality. Honestly! I've done everything, said everything _absolutely_ mortifying to her. So the moment she sees me act decent, her defenses will shoot up. She'll know from her gut that something is wrong."

Blaise couldn't help but smirk at the hilarious irony of the statement.

"So what else is left for me? That is to appeal to her sensible, rational side." Draco paused yet again as he twirled the glass in his hand. "I won't offer her romance when we're alone. The romance will be for the people. I'll offer her advice, options – the chance for redemption. I won't be callous, but I won't be compassionate as well. I'll make her understand that whatever we have is strictly business – a partnership we both have something to gain from. Nothing more, nothing less."

"So… you're going to _offer_ it to her? Like a deal?" Blaise licked his lips before pursing them to refrain from laughing. He didn't know if this was simply Draco's drunk alter ego talking, but if he was speaking the truth, then he was positively sure that the Malfoy heir had gone mental.

When Draco gave no response, Blaise decided to humor him instead. "And if she still doesn't agree?"

"You don't understand. This is a balance between emotions and rational thought. Plain and simple."

"Right. Of course. It makes _perfect_ sense." Blaise replied in a mocking tone, before his voice turned monotonous once again. "You still haven't explained a thing."

Draco chuckled. "You'll understand eventually."

Blaise could only shake his head, finally downing the rest of his firewhiskey. He didn't know exactly how he was capable of tolerating a conversation with the drunk blonde, but he had to admit, it was entertaining in its own way. After all, Draco never talked when he was sober, and Blaise couldn't remember the last time he's seen him without a drink in hand. He paused, taking note of everything they had discussed. "So I'm guessing you'll start with Weasley and Brown."

Draco smirked as he raised his glass in silent salute.


	4. The Fifth Pawn

Draco scoffed as he narrowed his eyes at the scene before him. Loud, ear drilling noise, a mesh of bodies grinding provocatively in a constricted circular space, blinding neon lights flashing at random speed. But the worst of them all was the temperature and humidity of the room. It felt as if he were standing in the center of a volcanic crater in the midst of a typhoon.

"What _is_ this place?" Came his usual haughty, aristocratic tone.

"What?" Yelled Blaise in response as he inched his ear closer to the Malfoy heir.

"I said, what is this place?!" Draco yelled, annoyed at having to scream to get his point across. He hated repeating himself.

"They call this a 'club'. It's one of the more famous attractions in the Muggle world." Blaise replied yelling with nonchalance, as if unaffected by the overload of sensory stimuli. "It's just been up and running for a month but it's been a big hit."

"What the hell is a 'club', and what the fuck is it doing _here_?" Draco couldn't stop himself from sneering in disgust as he watched people cramming themselves into what he assumed was the dance floor, sweat-ridden bodies rubbing against each other provocatively.

"It's like a pub but with dancing." Blaise shrugged as he eyed the rest of the room, looking completely at ease. "It's one of the projects of the Muggles Relations office of the Ministry and The Order. It's their way of proving to the wizarding world that although muggles have no magic, they're highly innovative." He finished with a nod as he motioned for Draco to follow his lead. "I read about it in the news." He added as an afterthought.

"Of course you did." Draco mumbled as he rolled his eyes. He never understood Blaise's nearly obsessive tendencies to update himself with the current events of the world; but either way, his pot full of information was always useful in more ways than one.

Draco raised an eyebrow at the scantily clad women who eyed him, as well as the men who wore strangely reflective and glittery shirts whose buttons seemed to have been forgotten. How could anyone call what they were doing as dancing? It was basically foreplay out in the open! He pushed through a group of people holding tiny glasses filled with what looked like water. They chugged it down in one go, following it up with a small slice of lemon. How odd!

"I take it this isn't your first time here."

Blaise smirked knowingly but said nothing more.

Draco rolled his eyes. It wasn't difficult to understand the main purpose of the people who would go to this kind of establishment. "Slag."

Blaise raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Says the one who whored himself for weeks." He could still remember the day Draco's house arrest finally ended. He scoffed. He was like a rabbit in heat.

Blaise paused to look around, hoping to get a glimpse of familiar dark blonde hair. "How are we supposed to find Brown in all this?"

Draco opened his mouth to retort when he caught sight of the bar. He gave Blaise a look as he tilted his head towards it, walking away swiftly. He heard Blaise yell something akin to 'not again', but chose to ignore him. He needed to rethink his entire plan. The setting wasn't exactly as he envisioned it.

Sitting on one of the empty stools, he motioned for the bartender to come over. "I'll have-"

"Butterbeer. We'll have two glasses of butterbeer." Blaise finished.

"What? Are you kidding me?" Draco turned to the bartender once again. "Look, he'll have butterbeer." He paused to point blatantly at Blaise. "But I'm having whatever strong shit you've got."

The bartender chuckled and nodded in understanding as he went on his way to prepare the drinks. Blaise openly glared at his alcoholic friend, shaking his head in dismay. "You know, if you drink too much, it'll be more difficult-"

"I think a can handle a few shots of firewhiskey, Blaise."

"Whatever you say. I won't be the one paying for it anyway if you mess up."

"I won't. Just stick to the plan." Draco whispered authoritatively, the scowl on his face seemed almost permanent. "Act as if everything we do tonight will be documented. Improvise and adapt as needed. Understand?"

Draco took the shot he was offered and downed it in one go, motioning for another much to Blaise's chagrin. "On another note, did it not even occur to you that it would have been necessary to rundown exactly what kind of place we were headed to?"

Blaise tilted his head back, taking a few sips of beer to hide his amusement before placing it back soundlessly on the counter. "You didn't ask."

Draco glared at him in response. "When you said 'muggle drinking establishment', I assumed it would be-"

"You seemed like you knew. I apologize." Blaise shrugged, clearly not repentant. His mouth twitched, fighting down another grin. "Besides, you said so yourself, isn't this a step in The Order's good graces? The Malfoy heir himself lowering down to step his holier-than-thou feet into a paltry muggle establishment?"

"You think this is funny?"

He no longer fought the chuckle that escaped his throat. "If only Theo were here to see this."

Draco emptied another shot, twirling the now empty, tiny clear glass around his fingers as he rolled his eyes. "Yeah well fuck you, Blaise."

Blaise continued to chuckle to himself, the corner of his eyes crinkling at the hilarity of the situation. It wasn't often that Draco would get caught off guard so when he did, it was amusing to watch him sulk and complain like a five-year-old who just got told he couldn't get any more candy.

"Alright you've had your fun." Draco glared at him one more time. "It's time to get to work."

They both turned around, facing out into the crowd, scanning the area unwaveringly. Draco paused when his eyes finally landed on a familiar mop of curly hair. Smirking at his partner in crime, he tapped his shoulder, turning his head back to where it was to signal where to look. "Ready to spread some rumors, Blaise?"

* * *

Blaise leaned by the bar, informing the bartender to bring their table another bottle of Odgen's Old Firewhiskey. He turned around to head back, but decided to lean against the bar counter to watch the Malfoy heir grab the hand of a woman who seemed bold enough to trail it up his trousers and onto his crotch.

He chuckled to himself as Draco pointedly turned around to speak to another woman who had her chest flush against his side. There were three others around their table, dancing to the music with abandon. He grinned at the exasperation on Draco's face as he shook his head at the woman who tried to pull him up for a dance.

Blaise had to hand it to him. Despite his family's current reputation and all the rumors surrounding him, there were still girls who flocked to him like moths to a flame. It just goes to show that the Malfoy name, as well as the centuries of riches it carried, still held.

He watched Draco scanned the area, no doubt looking for him. Chuckling to himself, Blaise shrugged both his shoulders in response to the Malfoy heir's death glare. He mouthed the word 'what', which only seemed to annoy the blonde even further.

Blaise released a dramatically long sigh before nodding in acknowledgement. He pushed off against the counter and headed back towards their table. It was time to put Draco out of his misery and execute phase two of the plan. He's gotten a pretty good layout of the area, and he knew exactly where Brown was situated. 

Clearing his throat, Blaise gently pushed pass the ladies fawning over the blonde pureblood. "Ok ladies, I think he's had enough for the night." He rolled his eyes at the disgruntled protests, gently pulling himself out of their grasps as they asked him to stay as well. "Another time." He winked as he hoisted the tipsy Malfoy heir up into a standing position.

Blaise apologized to the women once again, making a dramatic display of holding their hands, and offering chaste kisses across their knuckles. Draco began to stalk off to the bar area, but not before whispering 'I'll Crucio your ass when this is over'. Blaise couldn't help but chuckle at his pathetic attempt at a threat.

* * *

Draco flopped unceremoniously on one of the bar stools as he let out an exasperated sigh.

Blaise chuckled yet again. This night was starting to be one of the most enjoyable ones he's had in a long time. "I never thought I'd live to see the day you turn celibate." He flinched at the sudden backhand against his shoulder.

"What?"

"What the hell took you so long?" Draco complained through gritted teeth, trying his best to lower his voice to avoid being overheard.

"I lost track of time." Blaise replied with a fake innocent tone, shrugging in nonchalance. He laughed out loud at the accusatory glare aimed at him.

Draco clicked his tongue as he watched Blaise slap a hand against the counter in amusement. His enjoyment was getting way out of hand. "Where the hell is she?" He surveyed the area surreptitiously as he motioned for a drink. 

"Dancing." Blaise's laughter died down as he tilted his head towards the direction of the dance floor. "And guess what? I heard an interesting piece of information while you were out there being harassed."

Draco raised an eyebrow in inquiry, deciding to ignore the latter part of Blaise's statement.

"It seems there's trouble in paradise. When she came over here to buy a drink earlier, she was chatting with the Patil twin…" He paused in contemplation, his eyebrows furrowing in concentration before shaking his head and throwing a hand up in the air. "Fuck it, I have no idea which twin it is."

Draco shrugged. He never bothered to make an effort to tell the two women apart either. He nodded his thanks as the bartender slid him a glass of Odgen's.

"Anyway, the argument was about how stuck up Weasley was and how he absolutely prohibited her to come to this place."

Draco raised a brow in amusement at this new found information.

"They haven't talked for two days now, and to quote Brown's statement, _'I just feel like snogging some random guy tonight just to piss him off'_."

"Merlin must really love me." Draco chuckled to himself. This would be a whole lot easier than he thought.

Turning around to watch her on the dance floor, Draco leaned his body back onto the bar table. He propped one elbow by its edge, hand dangling free, while the other brought the glass of firewhiskey back to his lips. Brown finally caught him eyeing her, sending him a suggestive smirk followed by a playful wink. Blaise tapped a hand on Draco's shoulder, excusing himself wordlessly.

Draco eyed her from behind his glass. She looked tipsy, her body jerking to one side in an odd manner, before continuing to sway to the beat. Before he knew it, she was sauntering over to him, her gait somewhat unsteady but determined. He smirked. 

* * *

A loud knock echoed throughout the expanse of Draco's room much to his annoyance. Rolling over on his stomach, he grabbed a pillow and placed it over his head to block out the incessant knock against his door.

"Fuck off!" he replied in annoyance, the dull pounding in his head increased gradually as the knocks grew louder.

Flipping out of bed, Draco let out a feral growl of anger. Not minding that he was only in his black silk pajama pants, he headed to the door with vehemence. "Whoever the bloody hell is out there I suggest you leave now or-"

He was greeted by a paper shoved in front of his face the moment he forced his door open. Swatting it to the floor with his free hand, he was met with Blaise's grinning face.

"Rita Skeeter is the fifth pawn."

Draco sighed in annoyance at the unwanted visitor. "Congratulations Blaise. For that you get an 'O'. An 'O' for obvious!"

"You tipped off Skeeter? I have to hand it to you mate. Well played."

Draco's initial anger faded at the sight of Blaise's impressed stare. "Of course. Who the hell do you think you're talking to?"

Realizing that the paper he shoved away was the entertainment section of the morning news, Draco bent down to pick it up.

_Malfoy heir partying his sorrows away!_

He smirked at the picture of his annoyed face among a crowd of rowdy partygoers. He couldn't have picked a better shot. Eying the other photographs, he grinned fully at the curious look he donned towards a suggestively smirking Brown, who had both hands on his thighs as he sat on one of the bar stools. Perfect!

"I have to hand it to Skeeter. She thinks the same way you do."

Draco skimmed through the article, not bothering to hide his delight. "So she blamed The Order's unfair hold on the manor as the cause of stress that sent me to the hospital?"

"Don't skip over the most important ones." Blaise paused to point towards certain parts of the article. "She claims you and Granger have a relationship worth looking into after the rumors that spread from your hospital visit. She even knew about the flowers you sent." Blaise shook his head. How the hell Skeeter got her information was beyond him. 

Draco scanned the rest of the article, nodding in approval at the mention of Weasley and the inquiry of the current status of his relationship with Brown. Even Potter was cited offhandedly, questioning his stance on the Weasley-Granger break up.

"This may be well on its way to being the biggest scandal of the year." Draco read out loud, chuckling to himself.

He could practically hug Skeeter. She did his plan so much justice and gave him more than he expected. All the elements he wanted were there. He was glad she had something against the Golden Trio. She would have been one formidable enemy, even for him.

"Again. Never thought I'd say this, but another one of your ridiculous plans seemed to have worked." Blaise let out a sigh, shaking his head in exasperation.

Draco folded the paper, chucking it unceremoniously towards his couch. "Now for the next move."

"Huh?" Blaise blinked. "What, now?"

Draco opened the door to his bathroom before throwing a triumphant glance over his shoulder. "Yes, now!"

* * *

Blaise eyed the floor they were in. Was it just him, or did the elevator move faster than usual? Since when were they nearing the tenth? Weren't they just at the third a few seconds ago? Why weren't they stopping on any floor? Didn't anyone need to use the lift?

"I know I've said it before. Several times in fact. But this time I'm _really_ sure, mate. This is a bad idea. A very _very_ bad one." His gaze landed on the unbothered blonde standing beside him, busy eliminating imaginary creases on his otherwise perfect three-piece suit.

"Draco."

"You said it yourself. You've told me several times that my ideas are absolutely preposterous. But how many times have I actually failed?" He paused, raising a challenging eyebrow for emphasis. _"None._ So there you have it."

"But this is way out of line! What? You're just gonna walk in there and offer yourself up on a silver platter? This is suicide!"

Draco rolled his eyes. The Zabini heir always had a tendency of exaggerating things. "Blaise, how many times do I have to say it? I'm just going to pass by the Auror's floor, pretend I wish to inquire about the results of their so-called investigation on my Manor, then _covertly_ provoke weasel to a fight. After all, he'd be an idiot to not want a piece of me after what the morning news just published."

"I think you forgot the part about my having to clean your insides off the floor." Blaise replied blankly, before flailing his arms out in disbelief. "Have you gone mad? You're going to enter a floor full of _aurors_! You as much as disarm Weasley and dozens of them will be on your ass in an instant! You'll be in much deeper shit-"

"Who said anything about defending?" Draco scoffed, annoyed at Blaise for failing to understand what he was trying to do.

"What?"

"Of course I won't fight back! I'm on parole for Merlin's sake. Or have you forgotten? Besides, you've completely missed the point of this crusade." He rolled his eyes. "If weasel attacks me, the other aurors will no doubt stop him. They can't have a _scandal_ in their hands now, can they? So he gets one shot at me. _One_. That's all he gets, and that's all I need."

Draco smirked, raising his hands up to smooth an imaginary banner in the air. "That one little shot will be published in big, bold letters in tomorrow's news!"

"He could kill you in one shot!"

Draco glared at the seething Slytherin standing right beside him. "He wouldn't use _that_ , Blaise. Don't be an idiot."

"It could be any kind of-"

"And that's why you're here." Draco motioned his palms towards him in reply. "If it's an injury, you can help me heal it. If it's a spell, then you can reverse it. If it's a dark curse, you can counter it."

Draco eyed his reflection against the elevator door, lifting his chin slightly as he straightened his tie to perfection. "I know almost every possible dark curse there is. I doubt the weasel would use any of those. I'd be surprised if he even _knew_ any of them in the first place."

Blaise brought his wand out, effectively stilling the elevator in silence.

"Blaise, what in the bloody hell-"

"I know this all seems like a game to you, but I don't want to be the one standing there beside your mortally injured body, explaining to your mother how this 'crusade' of yours was supposed to play out."

"I won't-"

"So here's what's going to happen." Blaise immediately cut him off. "The moment I sense that weasel is on to you, I'll deflect the attack. Your much awaited story would just have to wait. Do you understand?"

Draco could only stare back at him in bewilderment.

"What?" Blaise asked in annoyance, unnerved by the way the Malfoy heir was looking at him.

"I don't know what to say." Draco replied softly, not entirely sure how to react to the blatant display of loyalty. "Are you in love with me?"

Blaise glared at him in annoyance. This was yet another aspect of Draco's personality that pissed him off - the tendency to ruin any form of sentimentality. 

"What? It's a valid question." Draco added, his teasing tone and smug demeanor back in place. "I honestly don't care either way. Unfortunately, I don't swing that way, but I just want you to know that I support you all the way. No hate here!"

Blaise huffed in irritation as he swung his wand to move the elevator once again. "You know what? Screw worrying about you. You can die for all I care."

Draco held a hand to his heart. "That really wounds me, you know?"

Blaise walked out promptly at the sound of the bell and the opening of the double doors, not bothering to gratify him with a response.

"And here I thought you really cared about me!"

Draco chuckled at his retreating back. Walking out of the elevator, he couldn't help but smile a little to himself. Just what exactly did he do to deserve a friend like Blaise?


	5. In Exchange

Blaise stirred his coffee, waiting patiently for it to cool down. Finishing the rest of his toast, he scanned the morning news, pausing to read articles that interested him.

It's been nearly five days since the incident, but Draco was all the entertainment portion could talk about. He had to be more careful now. With all this extra attention, one wrong move and it would all be over for him. 

_(Flashback)_

_Aurors struggled to keep Ron a good distance away from the injured blonde. "You fucking stay away from my girl you bloody ferret!"_

_Blaise blinked at Draco's crumpled form on the floor. Now that was certainly something he didn't expect. He was ready for anything magical, but a physical attack definitely caught him off guard._

_"You okay?" Kneeling down beside him, Blaise took out his wand to help heal his broken lip. He_ _could see that it was taking every ounce of self-control Draco had not whip his wand out and throw an unforgivable right at Weasley._

" _What's going on here?"_

_Draco grit his teeth, rolling his eyes in annoyance at the sight of the bespectacled Gryffindor stepping into the office. "Great. Saint Potter, here to the rescue."_

_"I have to admit. He got you good, mate." Blaise teased, earning him a glare from the other Slytherin._

_"Shut the bloody hell up."_

_"Stopped the bleeding." Blaise pocketed his wand and held a hand out to help, unsurprised that the gesture was ignored._

_Both men watched as the Golden Boy and another pair of aurors directed the furious Weasley towards the lift._

_"I swear if you try anything with her again I'll make sure you'll live to regret it!"_

_Draco straightened his posture, brushing the invisible dirt off the shoulder of his expensive suit, before looking him straight in the eye. "I suggest you get your facts checked, Weasley. Your girl came onto me."_

_Draco fought the grin itching to engulf half of his face as he_ _watched the incensed redhead gradually being dragged into the elevator by an exasperated Potter._

 _"See?" He turned his attention towards Blaise, chuckling at the stunned expression on his face. "Told you_ _everything would work out just fine."_

_(End of Flashback)_

Pulling on his coat, Blaise headed for the bag of floo powder by the foot of his chimney. He didn't know what Draco wanted but he was told to head over as soon as he could. An _emergency_ , the Malfoy heir claimed.

Blaise had half a mind to pass, knowing that Draco was probably planning to drag him into yet another ridiculous escapade. But as much as he hated to admit it, his curiosity got the better of him.

His gaze landed on the unmarked file sitting forgotten on the coffee table of his living room. He paused. Draco had yet to send him a response after he owled him a copy of it three days ago. He rolled his eyes as he grabbed a handful of powder. A bit of thanks would have been nice, but he wasn't a fool to delude himself that the stuck up blonde would spend a modicum of his time penning a letter of appreciation. He sighed. Perhaps it was what he wanted to discuss?

* * *

"Well if it isn't Blaise Zabini, my dear old friend!"

Blaise let out a few coughs as he fanned his hand in front of him to clear the dust. "I came as soon as I-" His gaze immediately shifted from Draco's grumpy face to the figure heading straight for him.

Two lean arms enveloped him in a tight hug, forcing a breath out of his lungs.

"Theo." Came his strangled voice. "Get the fuck off."

Feeling a set of hands pull at the back of his jumper, Theo finally let go. "Oh come on! Don't tell me you didn't miss me!"

Blaise scoffed in reply, shrugging his cloak off before dropping it carelessly on a chair. He pulled on the edge of the white button down shirt he wore, straightening it down in a gesture of annoyance. "Aren't you supposed to be in France?"

"Well obviously I'm not there anymore, am I?" 

Blaise ignored Theo's sarcastic response, turning his attention towards the blonde drunk sitting comfortably on the couch, wearing matching grey lounge wear. "Seriously?" He eyed the firewhiskey in his hand. "This early in the morning?"

Draco tipped his glass towards the beaming Nott heir, before downing the rest of it in one go. 

"What?" Theo's smile fell when he noticed Blaise throw an accusatory look towards him. "Hey, don't blame me! He was already drinking when I got here."

Blaise glared at Draco in exasperation, tilting his head towards the only lively person in the room. "So _this_ was your emergency?" All he got was a wordless shrug in reply. 

"He won't tell me anything." Theo flopped onto one of the plush chairs, pointing at the sulking blonde. "He told me you'll fill me in. So go on! Tell me _everything_." He rubbed his palms against each other in glee. "Don't leave anything out! I doubt Rita Skeeter knows all the details of whatever this is that you're both scheming."

Blaise gave Draco a look, earning him an affirmative nod. He sighed. This was going to be a long morning.

* * *

"Well fuck." Theo looked at Draco, unsure if he should offer the man a standing ovation or ask if he had all his affairs in order just in case he comes upon an untimely death. "You've got ball of brass, I'll give you that." He shook his head in disbelief and amusement. "Hermione Granger, of all people! It's like the worse fucking karma for you mate."

"Karma?" Blaise raised an eyebrow at the unfamiliar word. "Is this another one of those things you learned from traveling in the muggle world?"

"It is!" Theo sat up straight in enthusiasm, pulling up the sleeves of his navy jumper away from his arms. 

Draco closed his eyes, letting out a quiet, exasperated breath. "Here we go again."

"Karma is a concept that muggles use in certain religious practices. Basically, it means that the sum of one's actions in the _past_ and _present_ states of existence will be the factors in deciding his/her fate in _future_ existences."

Theo paused to take note of Blaise's confused expression, and Draco's uncaring disposition.

"You see, some muggles believe in the concept of _reincarnation_. After death, they get reborn into another living being. The quality of their life will depend on how well they lived their previous ones, and so on and so forth." He paused to raise a finger to emphasize his point.

"The same theory applies to the circumstances in one's current life. If you do a good deed, you get rewarded. Do a bad one, and suffer the consequences." Sensing their attentions dwindle, Theo clapped his hands loudly in the air, causing both men to jostle.

"Theo you son of a-"

"Merlin's fucking balls-"

"For example." He raised a finger yet again, effectively cutting them off. "Draco has lived the entirety of his Hogwarts schooling making Granger's life a living hell. Fast forward to now. If the concept of karma is to be believed, then it seems the tables have turned."

Theo was grinning now as he watched Draco's lips part ever-so-slightly. "It's Granger's turn to transform your life into your own personal nightmare."

"What a load of bullocks." Draco muttered under his breath, taking another sip from his nearly empty glass.

Blaise grinned, finding the entire thing rather amusing. "Interesting."

"Glad we agree, my friend!" Theo went on to raise the three-finger hand gesture the two other Slytherins always looked at with condescension. He was growing tired of repeatedly trying to get them to do the 'rock-and-roll' sign, but he wasn't going to give up that easily.

"When are you finally going to tire of your escapades in the muggle world?" Blaise shook his head.

Theo shrugged as he folded his arms across his chest. "It's fascinating. The muggle world. It has a different kind of magic." He chuckled, turning his gaze up at the ceiling. "Bet my father is rolling in his grave."

"He's dead." Came Draco's icy tone. "What you do with the Nott family fortune is your decision."

Blaise and Theo exchanged a look. They never really knew where Draco currently stood regarding his views on blood supremacy; but occasionally, he would make statements like these that made it seem like he, too, was beginning to see things differently. 

Draco never really talked to them about his experiences during the war, but both men could tell it damaged him beyond repair. He would choose to stay silent, mostly with a drink in one hand, opting to listen instead of speak. Gone was the haughty little boy who would always take over conversations, grabbing every opportunity to flaunt his achievements, his riches, and his social status.

"So…" Theo began, clearing his throat at the awkward tension in the room. "I know Blaise is still busy trying to run his upscale restaurant." He paused to give the taller man a thumbs up. "Dropped by yesterday mate, I have to admit, it had a very classy interior!"

"Only the best that money can buy."

"Seems to be doing really well too! Had to pull the 'I'm-Blaise-Zabini's-best-mate' card in order to get in without a reservation." He chuckled to himself. "I had no idea it would work! I only had to wait a few minutes."

Blaise responded with a smirk that wiped Theo's grin off his face.

"What?"

"The management called me asking what to do with you, since you were claiming to be my 'best mate'." Blaise shrugged. "There was a table ready but I told them to make you wait for at least fifteen minutes."

"You little shit!"

Draco couldn't help but smirk as he watched them squabble like a bunch of prepubescent kids.

"How about you Draco?" Theo spat out through gritted teeth, still sneering at Blaise in annoyance. "What's new with you?" 

"Alright." Draco began, swirling the firewhiskey in his glass. "I happen to have a very interesting story."

"What?" Both Slytherins echoed simultaneously as they glanced at the Malfoy heir with intrigue.

"You see, my mother is without a wand due to magical restraints. And since her house arrest allows her one day out every month, I took it upon myself to chaperon her around Diagon Alley." He paused to take a sip of firewhiskey, smirking from behind his glass.

"Imagine my surprise when we ended up in the same restaurant the Weasleys were in."

Blaise shook his head, a sly grin evident on his face.

Theo raised a fist against his slack-jawed mouth, trying to reel in a holler of excitement.

"He was out with his parents. Of course I knew that thanks to your excellent work." Draco raised his glass in salute to Blaise, who nodded in acknowledgement. "I took it upon myself to pick a table near theirs, making our reservation half an hour earlier."

Theo nodded, almost bouncing on his chair in delight. "And? And?"

"I've been unable to inform my mother of my activities, you see." Draco began to toy with his firewhiskey, twirling his glass around quickly to make it dance like trapped flames.

Blaise folded his arms on his chest, raising an eyebrow in amusement. "Let me guess. You discussed all the events in the papers with her, and had every intention of letting the Weasleys overhear."

"10 points to Slytherin."

Draco watched Blaise and Theo snicker in amusement; the atmosphere reminding him a bit of Hogwarts. The image of the Slytherin common room flashed in his eyes as members of their house passed around a snuck in bottle of Odgen's. He blinked. That time seemed so long ago.

"Fucking brilliant!" Theo slapped a hand against his thigh. "Details now!"

"My mother's exact words were, 'how are you and Miss Granger doing?'" Draco chuckled, recalling how the Weasleys' table immediately quieted down. 

Blaise couldn't help but grin. Narcissa couldn't have chosen a better question. It seemed innocent, but had just the right amount of weight to give people the wrong idea.

"I knew she was asking about my stance on the marriage proposition, but of course, the Weasleys don't know that." Draco rolled his eyes. "Then mother went on to ask about my partying scandal and the photos with Brown. I apologized and said I wouldn't let it happen again." He scoffed at the obvious lie. "But here's the best part." He rolled his tongue in his mouth, chuckling to himself at the memory. 

"My mother went on to say, 'I'm glad Weasley's punch didn't do much. I would have hated to see your handsome face hurt.'."

Theo burst out laughing while Blaise simply shook his head.

"You should have seen the grip weasel's parents had on him!" Draco downed the rest of his drink in one go, slamming the empty glass against the coffee table. 

"Shit! I think I'm gonna piss myself!" Theo continued to laugh as he marched in place, throwing a questioning look at both men until Blaise finally pointed towards the direction of the loo. He ran towards the bathroom, chuckling in his panic, much to the amusement of the two other Slytherins.

At the slam of the door, a comfortable silence filled the living room, making Draco and Blaise sigh in relief. The absence of the Nott heir was always palpable.

"Did you get the file I sent you?"

Draco glanced at the knowing look Blaise was giving him. He smirked. "Yes."

* * *

Hermione grabbed her bag off her work desk, eying her office one last time as she headed out. She let out a sigh, glad that her shift was finally over. It wasn't a particularly busy day, but being in the hospital for 24 hours straight was still exhausting.

Twisting the door knob open, she came face to face with one Draco Malfoy, poised to knock against the wood. She narrowed her eyes. 

"Malfoy." She eyed him warily, her tone in between a statement and a question.

"Granger."

She watched as he brought his hand back down into his pocket, nodding at her in greeting. "What do you want?"

"I would like to ask for a few minutes of your time." Draco took notice of the suspicious glance she was sending his way. "I won't take long." He added, watching her sigh at him tiredly. 

"Malfoy, I just finished my shift and-"

"I know, that's why I came now. I didn't want to get in the way of your work."

Hermione raised a brow at his claim. Since when was he the considerate type? "And how on earth do you know when my shift ends?"

Draco tilted his head, towards the direction of the lobby. "I asked the reception for your office hours."

Hermione wanted to pinch the bridge of her nose in frustration. The last thing she needed was more of those ridiculous rumors spreading. "You couldn't have set an appointment?"

"You would have denied me." Came his matter-of-fact reply.

She opened her mouth to retort but began to realize that some bystanders were already beginning to stare. She glared at him, knowing full well that he wouldn't take lightly to being sent away. She clicked her tongue. She really didn't want to cause a scene.

Hermione released a long, annoyed sigh before moving to one side, allowing him to come in and away from prying eyes.

"Thank you." He nodded, his tone formal and courteous.

Closing the door for some privacy, she motioned for him to sit on one of two modest looking black chairs in front her work desk. She didn't spare him a glance as she headed for the plush mahogany colored high-back leather chair on the other side.

Draco wanted to scoff at the imposing way she sat on as if it was a throne and this was her kingdom. He said nothing as she jutted her chin out slightly, raising her nose up in the air. He knew she was showing a play of power – her office, her set up, her rules. He also didn't miss the seemingly offhanded way she placed her wand on the table within arm's reach – a silent threat.

"First of all." He began, a strange mixture of amusement and apprehension in his tone. "I'd like to point out as early as now that this meeting will not warrant you to draw arms."

Hermione ignored his poor attempt at humor, leaning both her elbows near the ends of her wand, fingers coming together in a gesture of contemplation. "Let's save the small talk for another day, should that time ever come, Malfoy. Get straight to the point. What are you doing in my office at this hour?"

Draco stayed silent, quickly assessing his options. She was serious, guarded, and very suspicious. He expected her to be more reactive and argumentative; but this cold, quiet, calculating version of her wasn't at all what he expected.

"Malfoy." Came her firm tone, a hint of annoyance showing in her voice.

"I have a proposition for you." He spoke with an even businesslike tone.

She raised an uninterested eyebrow, silently urging him to elaborate.

"Have you read the papers lately?"

Hermione rolled her eyes in annoyance at the roundabout answer he gave her. "Get. To. The point. I've been doing rounds since eight this morning and now…" She paused to check the watch on her wrist, letting out a frustrated sigh as she flipped it towards his line of sight. "It's nearly nine in the evening. I'm _tired_ , Malfoy. So you either make your point now, or we can discuss whatever this is another time."

Draco took a deep breath to prepare himself. It seems there was no other way he could approach this. "I'm sure you're informed of the Ministry's latest stunt?"

"I don't follow." Came her flat tone.

"I meant the Ministry taking hold of my manor."

She took a moment to just look at him, utterly confused by his intentions. "And what does that have to do with me?"

"Since you're a part of the Order, we can stop the pretense." Standing up, Draco began wandering around her office, running a finger along the spines of her books by the shelves.

A photograph on top caught his attention. It was a picture of an old couple, but the frozen quality of the portrait did nothing to justify their feelings of happiness. He took it in his hands. He could see a bit of her in both of them.

"What are you doing?" Hermione kept her eyes on him, wand now in hand.

"Investigative purposes." Draco let out a short bitter laugh. "You lot should have at least been a bit more convincing. It's insulting, you know." He paused to give her a mocking look. "Plus the _minimum_ of 90 days probation? Very, very unoriginal. You should have just stated, 'we are out to _confiscate_ your manor for as long as we want and there is absolutely _nothing_ you can do about it'."

Hermione released a long, irate sigh. Was he seriously complaining to her, of all people, about a move The Order made against his family? She scoffed. What exactly was he hoping to achieve?

"What do you want me to say?" Her tone was even and unsympathetic. "I don't mean to offend, Malfoy, and I know you _will_ take offense, but the movements being taken against your family are brought about by the consequences of all your actions." 

Draco felt something snap inside of him, a warm burning trail grew from his chest, expanding up to his neck and face, all the way to the tips of his ears. His hands felt scalding. He clenched them to kill the sensation of wanting to smash something into pieces.

Hermione eyed the livid Malfoy heir before her with steady alarm, gripping the wand in her hand tighter.

"It's so easy for you to judge, isn't it?" Came his hard but level tone. Gone was the rage that had earlier been so evident in his eyes.

Hermione blinked in surprise at how quickly he managed to bury his resentment. Was he using Occlumency? She watched him move back to the chair he once sat on, clutching a picture frame in his hands. She felt her heart still when he placed the photograph flat on her desk.

"Are they your parents?"

Her gaze on him was punishing. "That's _none_ of your business."

"Come now, Granger." Draco smirked at the way she openly glared at him. "I only asked because they looked like you."

"If you have nothing else of importance to say, I suggest you leave."

Ignoring her, Draco turned his gaze back to the sets of photographs strewn on one side of her office. "No picture of Weasley." He shrugged nonchalantly, turning his attention back to her. "I guess not after-."

Hermione stood up abruptly, pointing a finger towards her door. "Get out of my office."

"But you haven't even heard-"

"Whatever proposition you have, you can shove it up your ass! I don't need anything from you, Malfoy."

Hermione walked around her table, heading pointedly towards the door. Her hand nearly touched the knob when she heard the legs of his chair scrape as he called out to her.

"I'd like to offer you a proposition for marriage."

* * *

"So let me get this straight." Came Hermione's mocking tone. She paused to move away from the door, heading back to the comfort of her chair. " _You_ want _me_ to pretend to be your _fiancé,_ so you can get in The Order's _good_ side, which could _probably_ result to you having your _temporarily_ confiscated mansion back?"

Draco tilted his head to one side, deep in thought. "It doesn't sound as cunning as it actually is when you say it that way."

She looked at him with utter incredulity. "Do you have any idea how _ridiculous_ you sound?"

"It's not _ridiculous_." He rolled his eyes. "I just summarized everything for you so it lacks most of the details that mark its... astuteness."

Hermione scoffed, unsure of whether she should laugh out loud or have him checked in at St Mungo's for the questionable state of his sanity. "Listen, Malfoy, as much as it _fascinates_ me that you have a…" She paused, looking desperately for a polite word. "…sense of humor, I have neither the time nor the patience for any of this." She folded her arms across her chest in a gesture of finality.

"You. And Me. Getting married?" She allowed herself to chuckle a bit at the absurdity of it all. "Come on, Malfoy. No one is stupid enough to believe that."

"Don't be absurd. It's not marriage in the literal sense. Just an engagement. Or a possibility for one." Draco stated matter-of-factly. "Besides, you're underestimating our potential."

This earned him an amused scoff. "What did you just say?"

"You're underestimating our charm. Two very opposite people, fighting from polar ends of the war who have every reason not to be together, yet eventually find their way into a relationship? It's a common romance trope."

Hermione didn't know what surprised her more, Malfoy's weirdly positive view of them being in a relationship, or his knowledge of romance tropes.

They stared each other down in what seemed like a stalemate, each one sizing up the other in a silent battle of wills.

"Aren't you going to ask me what's in it for you?"

"I don't need to because I already know the answer." Hermione tightened her arms across her chest. "Nothing."

Draco allowed himself to smirk. "You sure about that?"

"What could I possibly gain out of this one-sided arrangement, Malfoy?"

"Retribution."

She narrowed her eyes in confusion. "From?"

"Ronald Weasley and Lavender Brown."

Draco watched with silent fascination as her detached, composed façade crumbled into a look of indignation. "You have some nerve coming into my office and intruding on my personal life."

Ignoring her contempt, Draco continued to sell his point. "Weasley and I have a long history of hatred, similar to mine and yours, and Potter's as well. Believe it or not, but Weasley has always been jealous of me."

Just when Hermione thought he couldn't be more self-absorbed, he always managed to surprise her. "You think you're so-"

"I'm rich." He continued, not bothering to take note of the look of annoyance she sent his way for interrupting. "I'm good looking. I'm smart, athletic and popular. "

Hermione was speechless. She couldn't begin to fathom the delusions Malfoy had in his head.

"Of course you think otherwise." Draco paused as if to gain affirmation.

"Clearly!" Came her exasperated tone.

"But you have to admit, Granger. There is no other man that you could date in this entire world that would elicit such a visceral reaction from Weasley. I'm the only one."

Hermione stayed silent for a moment, waiting for her gaze to unnerve him before gratifying him with a response. 

"You always seem so sure of yourself, Malfoy. But you're forgetting one very important thing."

Now it was Draco's turn to fold both his arms on his chest defensively.

"Ron and I may have had a fallout. Yes, we haven't talked in months. Yes, I have no plans on being in good terms with him ever again."

Draco nodded in understanding, secretly happy his predictions were accurate.

"But." Hermione paused, her stern gaze meeting his expectant ones. "You are _you_ , Malfoy. I'm sure I don't need to remind you why I _never_ want to have anything to do with you."

Draco was taken aback by the unbridled look of disdain she sent his way. It's been awhile since he's seen such a look directed right at him. Memories of the war came flashing before his eyes, forcing him to look away, pushing back the memories into the corners of his mind.

Hermione watched him tear his eyes away from her own. Every prank. Every mocking remark. Every scathing tease. Every hurtful retort. She remembered it all. And he did it to her for no real reason at all. His actions and words were the root of all her childhood insecurities. Her teeth. Her hair. Her blood. Everything she had no control over he ridiculed. Her hatred towards him and everything he stood for had no bounds. But more than anything, she hated the fact that his words knew just where to hit her to make it hurt.

"Now if there is nothing else-"

"I heard Australia is a wonderful place."

Hermione felt her blood chill all the way down to her bones. She watched as he darted his gaze towards the picture frame lying on her table, before looking back at her knowingly. He knew. The bastard knew. "You fucking conniving son of a-"

"Before you start thinking about-"

"That was classified information-"

"If you would just listen-"

"How dare you even try to-"

"Would you calm down-"

"I will kill you with my own bloody-"

"Let me explain-"

"Get the fuck out!"

Draco stared at the red-faced woman before him, standing with her wand pointed straight at him. Her eyes were wild and her hair buzzed with sparks of magic. He raised both his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"I'm not going to hurt your parents, Granger."

"I said, get out." Her tone was low and quiet, but there was a feral undertone to it.

"I'm here to offer help."

"Like I would believe anything-"

"Money, Granger. That's what I'm offering." Draco cut her off as he stood up slowly to his full height, hands still up in the air. "You're researching ways to reverse obliviation." He stated frankly, not bothering to ask for her affirmation.

"Your current position at St. Mungos and the salary it provides you aren't enough." He added. "There are memory experts all over the world, both magical and muggle. If you're going to explore all possibilities, you would need a nearly _inexhaustible_ amount of money."

Hermione was silent now. She still had her wand pointed at him, but all her anger was gone. She was looking at him with wide eyes, torn between wanting to listen to his offer and wanting to call his bluff.

Draco brought his hands down to his sides, his gaze on her firm and unyielding. "My family's peace, in exchange for your family's reunion."


	6. Business Partnership

Hermione eyed the bright rays of the morning sun seeping in through her window. She sighed at the thought of having yet another sleepless night. But this time, it hadn't been caused by another horrendous nightmare or a random panic attack. No. The root of her insomnia was that slimy little ferret after he had written down his monetary offer in exchange for her cooperation.

That amount alone would have had her set for life. That exorbitant amount of galleons would give her countless opportunities to explore every single theory she had about obliviation!

"250,000 galleons." She whispered, draping an arm over her eyes. She let out a breath. "Fuck." That was roughly one and a quarter million British pounds! She initially didn't believe he could casually hand over a sum like that to her, but one look into his family's net worth shut her up. She was sure she's never seen so many zeros her entire life!

His parents apparently arranged for him to inherit their entire estate prior to their incarceration to protect their money. Draco Malfoy was now the youngest billionaire in the whole wizarding world! She scoffed. No wonder he even had the audacity to tell her the amount was negotiable, if it wasn't to her liking. Stupid spoiled rich brat.

"Fuck!" She screamed this time. She hated the fact that she was actually considering things. But this was Malfoy! There was no way in hell he would be honorable enough to go through with any deal involving her.

"Fuck. _Fuck!_ God damn motherfucker son of a bitch!"

Hermione kicked her feet out several times across the bed, drumming her fists against the mattress in frustration, before finally allowing herself to roll out of bed haphazardly. She ignored the way her blanket lay strewn across the room; two of her pillows thrown off from either side of her bed.

Stomping off into the kitchen, she begrudgingly started making tea. Slamming the pot full of water onto the heated stove, she grabbed a random cup, tipping a couple of leaves into it unceremoniously. Not bothering to screw back the cover of the tea container, she folded her arms across her chest and heaved an annoyed sigh.

She needed that money. She knew there was no other way she could acquire that much in such a short amount of time. If it had been from anyone else, she would have accepted in a heartbeat. But the offer had been from that git and a part of her knew that, business deal or not, he was untrustworthy.

Turning off the stove, she quickly dumped the warm water onto her cup, before slamming it back down in aggravation. She held the cup in both hands, relishing in the way its warmth seeped through her skin, providing her with a short moment of relief.

She closed her eyes, feeling the way her chest moved as she took slow deep breaths. She needed to calm down. If she was going to think things through, she needed a clear head.

"'Mione?" Soft knocks resounded from her doorway.

Hermione froze at the muffled voice, almost dropping the cup of tea she held. Standing still by her kitchen counter, her gaze shot across the living room and onto the door where another set of knocks reverberated from.

"'Mione, I know you're there."

Hermione moved out of the kitchen to cross her living room, stopping a few paces from the door. The knocks grow louder, more frantic.

"I just want to talk. Please."

Schooling her features into one of nonchalance, Hermione took a deep breath as she swung the door open. 

Ron flinched at the sudden, unexpected movement. "Uh, hey. Morning." He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair to gain composure. He glanced at the cup of tea she cradled in her hands. "Having breakfast?"

"What do you want?"

"Um, can we talk?"

She raised a brow. "We're talking now."

"No. I mean- Well, I guess we are talking now, but- What I want to say is that…"

"Ron. If there's something you need to say, just say it."

"Can I come in?"

After a moment of silent contemplation, Hermione finally stepped to one side to give him space. She watched him visibly relax as he pulled off his scarf and coat, hanging it by the rack neatly. She blinked. He hadn't been that tidy when they were living together. In fact, last she checked, he hadn't been a morning person either. And yet here he was, up and ready first thing and without a hair out of place.

"So what do you want?"

Ron watched her stand firmly by the entryway even after she'd shut the door. It was as if she was just waiting for him to give her a reason to kick him out. "How've you been?"

Hermione look at him incredulously, biting back the sarcasm that itched its way through her tongue. "Are you serious?"

"I just…" He rubbed his fingers against each other to rid himself of the nervous energy. 

Hermione said nothing, but her expression was anything but patient.

"Can we talk about us?"

She couldn't believe what she was hearing. It's been nearly six months after their break up, and _this_ was the time he chose to talk about them? "Ron." Hermione began, her tone exhausted but reprimanding. "Months of no personal explanation from you was enough to let me know that closure is a thing that will never happen between us."

"Then at least give me a chance to-"

"I hope you understand my lack of regard for anything you have to say." She interjected, her gaze hard and accusing. "I think the part where you cheated and the part where you chose to end our relationship through the morning papers was more than enough of an eye-opener for me."

Hermione watched with poorly veiled amusement as Ron's face showed uninhibited embarrassment and anger. She watched curiously as he took in slow, deep breaths; the hands on his sides fisting and uncurling simultaneously. She blinked. He wasn't going to counter back? That was a first.

"I know what I did. And I know words will never be enough to tell you how much I regret it and-"

"Which one?" Came her bored tone.

"What?" Ron could only look on with annoyance at being interrupted yet again.

"The cheating? Or the publicized break up?"

He was gritting his teeth now. "Both."

Hermione looked away. His reply was forced, insincere, and utterly meaningless. Just what exactly was he trying to achieve with his half-hearted apology?

"I know it's too late. But I wanted to tell you I'm sorry. For everything. I know you didn't deserve any of it. It was all my fault! I can't blame you for being angry with me. Hell, I'm angry with me! I just- I don't want our friendship to end because of something so trivial."

She couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh. "Trivial?" She echoed.

Realizing the mistake he made, Ron sputtered in an attempt to correct himself. "W-When I said trivial, I mean, you know! In relation to everything! Everything we've been through. Hogwarts, the war, Voldemort. It just fails in comparison to everything else!"

"And you expect me to just... forgive you?" Hermione looked Ron straight in the eye, the accusation never leaving her gaze. "I mean, it did just take you, what? Six months to finally clear up something so _trivial?_ That our relationship was, what? Worth no explanation whatsoever? That everything we had was worth giving up over some bimbo you fucked back at Hogwarts?!"

Ron was beyond livid at this point. "Call her what you want but she's more of a girlfriend to me that you ever were!"

"Oh?" Hermione scoffed as marched to the living room, facing him head on. She slammed her cup of tea down the coffee table, ignoring the wetness that was now dripping through her fisted hand. "So it's my fault now?"

"After the war I thought we could finally be happy together! But everything you did, you did to push me away!" Ron began pacing around the room, swaying his hands to emphasize every point he made. "I can't even get you out on a date if I didn't make sure to pencil myself in at least a week early in your schedule!"

"I was _trying_ to fix my parents!"

He ignored her reply and kept going. "'Mione you fucking wake up screaming in the middle of the night, yet you'd refuse to tell me anything about it!"

"Which part of 'I don't want to bloody talk about shit that keep me up at night', don't you understand, Ron?!"

"'Mione, it got to the point where you wouldn't even share our bed! You wouldn't even let me hold you-"

"Oh well I'm sorry for not being in the mood to _fuck_ you when I was too busy trying to piece myself back together after the war!"

"Wha- It's not even about sex!" Ron yelled back in frustration; his face almost the same shade as his hair. "I wanted to help you! I made it absolutely clear that I was there if you needed me!" His voice broke. "I… I loved you. You have no idea how much I did. But every time I showed you, you just… You didn't care."

Hermione was crying now, not even realizing when she started.

"Everyone was starting to find their place. But you and I... We just never seemed to fit. I felt like I was the only one making an effort to try and make us work. And I… I just felt so lonely."

"So you cheated." Came her accusatory tone once more as she furiously tried to wipe away her overflowing tears. "After all, engaging in a mindless fuck is easier than trying to decode a madwoman, right?"

"Lavender isn't just a mindless fuck! I love her!" He argued, his voice hitching up at the rage that came with it. "You were broken Hermione! Too broken that I couldn't even begin to understand where and how to start fixing you!"

"So you just gave up on me?! Is that it?!"

"You wouldn't even let me fucking try!"

"All I was asking was time, Ron! Time for me to try and get my shit together!"

"And I made it clear that I wanted to help-"

"And I made it clear that it was something I had to do _alone_!" 

Ron turned his back on her, running a hand through his hair to reel the frustration in. It was like nothing had changed. It was always the same argument over and over again. He shook his head and let out a sigh. He was reminded of how exhausting their relationship had been. How exhausting talking to her had been. Hermione was just… She was just so exhausting.

"I thought you were finally giving me some time, letting me have some space to figure things out." Hermione's voice had gone soft, heavy with hurt and disappointment. "Then I find out about you and her. On the front page of the paper everyone was reading. On my way to work."

They stayed silent for a moment, the sound of their heavy breaths echoing throughout the room.

"Do you know how humiliating that was? Pretending to people who had the audacity to ask me about it, that we had already broken up weeks ago?"

"I'm sorry." Came his quiet, broken tone.

"You already said that." Came her bitter one.

"I know you were traumatized by the war, but did it ever occur to you that maybe I was too?" He finally turned around to look her in the eye. "But you never even bothered to ask, did you Hermione?" He paused, biting his lip. A lonesome tear trickled down one side of his face. "Because all you cared about was yourself."

Hermione looked away. She didn't want to hear any more of this. "This is a pointless conversation." She began to walk away but his bitter chuckle made her glare back at him.

"And there you go again." Ron held his palms out towards her for emphasis. "When you don't get your way, you walk out." He shook his head. "I guess some things just never change."

Hermione grit her teeth, both hands fisted on her sides, clearly irked by his claim. "Why now?"

"What do you mean 'why now'?"

"Why. Now. Why choose now to talk about us? After all this time! What changed?"

"I told you I don't want our friendship-"

"Bull. Shit." Hermione cut him off as she stalked towards him, stopping just an arm's reach away. "I refuse to believe that this has anything to do with wanting to be friends again!"

"Believe it or not Hermione I still care about you. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Too late for that now, is it?" Came her mocking tone. "You already did such a great job at it."

"I said I was sorry!"

"Yes, Ron. And if Voldemort ever said sorry for all the things he's done, we'd just forgive him and we'd all live happy ever after!"

Ron turned around and started pacing the room, both hands pulling against the back of his neck in frustration. "You had no idea what I was going through!" He paused to wave a hand towards her bitterly. "If it makes you happy to blame every little thing on me, then by all means, do so! But I won't give up my obligation as your friend. I won't stop trying to get you out of harm's way."

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she folded her arms across of her chest. "And just what is that supposed to mean?"

Ron sighed as he leaned both his palms on the back of her sofa. He kept his gaze on her forgotten cup, half filled with tea. The other half pooled unevenly on the coffee table, no longer warm.

"I overheard Malfoy and his mother talking about you." Ron paused, doing nothing to conceal the obvious feeling of disgust evident on his face. "They were talking about you… as if you two had some sort of relationship or something!"

Hermione felt her lips part at the realization of it all. She didn't think she couldn't hate Ronald Weasley any more than she already did, but his audacity really knew no bounds.

"He's up to something! I don't know what exactly, but he's involving you in it so it can't be good!"

Hermione scoffed as she shook her head. It started as a small giggle, soon erupting into unbridled laugher; but there was nothing joyful about the sound. It was hallow, hostile, almost sinister.

"What's so funny?" Ron, now red-faced, rounded the sofa to stand right in front of her line of sight. "I'm warning you about Malfoy. 'Mione this is serious."

He watched as her chuckling faded, shaking her head one more time before finally meeting his gaze. He couldn't help but shiver at the cold emptiness of her eyes. Lifeless. Dead. Gone were the warm flecks of amber he had fallen so madly in love with. In front of him was a shell of what was once radiant and pure. He swallowed. She really was broken. So irreversibly scarred. More so than he had ever realized.

"You didn't come here to apologize." Her tone gave no room for argument. "Apologizing just seemed like the better thing to do before delving into what you really came here to talk about..." She paused to just look at him for a moment. "Malfoy."

Hermione watched him sputter in his attempts to prove her wrong. She didn't bother to make sense of his words. She blinked tiredly, heading towards the entryway of her flat, pulling the door open wordlessly.

"'Mione, I-" Ron quieted down, sending her a pleading look instead.

Hermione stayed silent, her eyes not meeting his as she waited for him to finally step out of her house. She watched as he slowly moved to grab his clothes off the rack.

For a moment she could remember how they used to be. She would help him with his coat and give him a kiss goodbye before he went off to work. Then he would welcome her back home, taking her things in one hand, while the other wrapped around her waist as he kissed her.

The rare occasions they attempted to cook together – her teaching him how, and him always trying his best not to mess up. Even if he always did.

Their late night walks after dinner when neither of them could sleep. Their fingers intertwined, their breaths puffing in the cold air; his arms always ready to wrap around her to keep her warm. 

His unyielding desire to teach her how to play chess, and her begrudging acceptance to learn. She never did. 

All the times he would drag her to watch a Quidditch game, eternally flabbergasted by the fact that she was incapable of loving it despite knowing all the rules and trivia concerning the sport. 

The lopsided smile he gave her on the rare occasion he managed to wake up before she did. His affectionate morning kisses. His protective hugs. His beautiful blue eyes.

She could still remember all of it. Every single moment of what they had. But as he gave her one more look, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he stood on the other side of her door, she felt nothing.

"Goodbye, Ronald."

* * *

_Malfoy_

_Is there a chance we can discuss your 'proposition' sometime this week? Preferably after work hours and away from the scrutiny of the public. Merlin knows how much you love publicity._

_Granger_

_P.S. This letter does not, in any way, express consent._

"This is a surprise! I thought you said she refused last night and demanded that you leave before she, and I quote, 'hex your family jewels so hard no other Malfoy will ever walk this planet'."

Draco glared at the Nott heir who was lounging loosely on one of the sofas of his living room, laughing his ass off. "Why are you here again?"

"I was intrigued so I decided to tag along." Theo shrugged offhandedly, flinging the letter towards the Zabini heir who caught it effortlessly.

"He was bored and was annoying the shit out of me when you owled." Blaise scanned the small piece of parchment in his hand before chucking it onto the coffee table. "I'm guessing the information in the file I gave you proved useful?"

"Yes. I really have to thank you for your research. None of this would have been possible without it." Draco raised his glass of firewhiskey in salute, before glancing at both men haughtily.

"Well? Aren't you guys going to congratulate me?"

Theo snorted in amusement. "If I remember correctly, approximately twenty-four hours ago, you were screaming profanities at the fire place, second guessing all the decisions you've made in the past few weeks. It was a sight to see I tell you! Why, the Malfoy heir actually has insecurities?"

Theo sputtered when something soft hit him square in the face. "A pillow fight?" He paused to eye the glowering blonde incredulously. "How very Hufflepuff of you! Is this going to be the direction of your character development, Draco? I think I'd prefer that you stay the silent, brooding alcoholic. It adds more to the mystery and makes the plot more unpredictable!"

Draco glared at the wide grin on the Nott heir's face with half a mind of chucking his glass at him.

Blaise shook his head at their bickering. "You have to admit though, you took a huge fucking risk. She could have exposed you."

"Then I would have exposed her as well." He replied flatly.

"The information you have on her parents isn't nearly as heavy as the information she has on you. Which one do you think the papers would fixate on? You would have been ruined."

"It was a risk I was willing to take." Draco glared at Blaise, watching the taller man shrug at him offhandedly. "This was the best option." He sighed, dropping his head back to rest on the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. After all, Granger was not the type to be easily manipulated.

"So you opted for the simplest, most straightforward, totally lacks a 'unique diabolical signature' option, huh?" Theo wagged his eyebrows at Draco, not bothering to hide the amusement in his tone.

"Worked, didn't it?"

Blaise hummed in agreement. "I'd like to think this arrangement benefits her just as much as you."

Theo rubbed his hands together in excitement. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I'm definitely going to enjoy the upcoming Gryffindor-Slytherin showdown slash death match. No doubt about it!"

Blaise grinned. If everything works out in the Malfoy heir's favor, then it was going to be a very interesting couple of months, indeed. "So, when are you and Granger going to meet?"

"Tomorrow, first thing in the morning." Draco smirked. He needed to get everything in order. "I can't give her time to rethink her decision."

* * *

Draco gazed at the canister of fire whiskey by the liquor table. He was itching to down another glass but he was already three shots up and he would need to keep his temper in check – something he was incapable of when he wasn't sober. Granger would be here any moment and if he wanted any sort of progress with her, he would have to forgo drinking until she's left.

The short annoying chime of the grandfather clock directed Draco's gaze to the furnace. He smirked as the vibrant red was slowly engulfed by a hypnotizing shade of green. He was entranced for a moment. The wonderful color of Slytherin calmed him, giving him an odd sense of power. He felt in control.

"Malfoy." Came Hermione's uncertain tone as she stood a few paces in front of the flame, eyeing him warily.

Realizing he was staring right through her, Draco let out a cough as he stood up in greeting. He gestured towards a chair with much elegance and manner that Hermione had to blink to ensure that it really was Draco Malfoy in front of her.

"Glad you could make it. Make yourself comfortable."

Hermione eyed the chair skeptically, sitting herself on the edge. Feeling the plush velvet chair slowly pull her in, she gradually allowed herself to be enveloped in a warm, comfortable embrace. She would have sighed in pleasure had the company been different.

Clearing his throat, Draco donned a detached, professional demeanor. "Shall we begin?"

Hermione replied with nothing but a penetrating gaze.

Draco raised a brow. "Something the matter?"

"I want you to answer some questions first."

Draco tilted his head to one side in a small nod of affirmation. "Seeing as you stated it in a way that invokes no argument, then by all means, go right ahead."

"How did you get information on my parents?"

Draco picked up the pot of tea on the table, pouring himself a cup. "Everything has a price Granger."

"Who did you get it from?"

Draco eyed the look she was giving him, adding two cubes of sugar and a dash of milk to his cup. "I'm afraid I don't know."

"Bull shit."

Draco allowed himself to smirk. It was amusing to hear her curse. "I'm telling the truth. I hired someone to get me information. I don't question where it comes from as long as I'm assured it's trustworthy."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. So the person under Malfoy's employment was someone he could wholeheartedly trust? "Who's your informant?" She watched him chuckle mirthlessly, his hand paused in midair gracefully clutching his tea.

"Granger, your asking me who my informant is, is the same thing as my asking of your parents' residential address in Australia."

Hermione raised a challenging brow. "Don't you already know?"

"Wasn't in the files. Not that their location is of importance to me." Draco shrugged, taking a quick sip from his cup. "How many times do I have to tell you, Granger? I'm not after your parents." Came his aggravated tone.

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for it?" Came her disbelieving one.

"What do you want me to say?" He sighed at her tiredly.

"I need to know how you found out about my parents."

Draco eyed the determined look on her face, realizing that they would get nowhere unless she got her answers. 

"My informant found out about your monthly portkey applications in the Ministry." He paused to take note of the way her eyes widened in understanding. "It didn't take much digging after that to figure out the rest."

Hermione fisted her hands on her lap, annoyed at herself for being careless. Malfoy could have easily bribed anyone within the Department of Magical Transportation for that information. She clicked her tongue. She knew she should have just used unregistered ones, but she didn't want to risk getting caught. 

"Granger, I don't care about your parents. What could I possibly gain from trying to hurt them?" He sent her a pointed gaze to get his point across. "I was merely looking for ways to get you to consider my proposal."

"Why did you tell me everything?" She paused, finally asking the question that's been on her mind since his visit to her office. "Why did you risk having yourself exposed?" She scanned his gray eyes discerningly, trying to look for anything that might give him away. "I could have told everyone." 

"So why didn't you?" He challenged, but the tone of his voice was curious.

"Just answer the question, Malfoy." She crossed her arms on her chest. 

He shrugged. "I bet on the fact that you had just as much to gain from this as I do."

"I could head to the Ministry right this moment, and offer my memory on a pensieve. Unlawful acquisition of records, bribing a Ministry official, plotting against The Order-"

"Now that last one's a bit extreme, don't you think?"

Hermione didn't like the way he seemed so nonchalant about her threat. She leaned back onto the chair, arms still folded, hooking one leg over the other. "You look pretty relaxed for someone who could potentially head to Azkaban." She watched him empty his tea, shrugging as he poured himself another serving. Was that his way of managing his nerves?

"True. You could report me. Have me detained. Locked up in Azkaban." He listed, dropping the same amount of sugar and milk in his cup, stirring it with care. "But in the process lose funding for your research."

Hermione stayed silent.

"I'm sure I don't have to tell you that there has been no successful attempt at reversing obliviation. Voldemort tried it on Bertha Jorkin and damaged her mind beyond repair." He paused to take a sip of his tea. "The longer you take, the lower your chances get."

Hermione wanted to scream at him to shut the fuck up. He didn't need to lecture her, of all people, about the workings of the damn thing. She did, however, notice how he didn't even stutter or shudder at the mention of his lord's name.

"So you have two options really. Report me. Or work with me." Draco finally put down his cup, threading his fingers together, leaning both elbows on his knees. "But since you're here, I'm guessing you're at least willing to listen to what I have to say before deciding what to do."

Hermione opted to nod her agreement, scrutinizing him with a silent gaze. 

Draco slid a stack of papers lying on his side of the table towards her. "That's the written contract. After this discussion, I would like for you to read the terms and conditions, then sign on the dotted line should you agree to them. Any potential amendments will be done in this very room, for reasons I'm sure you'll understand. A written document is strong evidence to implicate someone in court."

"I have more than enough evidence if I wanted to oust you, Malfoy." She rolled her eyes.

"One can never be too careful." Came his matter-of-fact tone.

Hermione ignored him as she flipped through the pages of the contract. It wasn't as thick as she thought it would be. She imagined it would have been full of annotations, foot notes and fine print that would try and trick her into agreeing with things she would overlook. She snorted. Not that she would ever miss a detail.

"Now if I may? I would like to begin to relay to you the details of this… business partnership."

Hermione took a deep breath to prepare herself, nodding her head in affirmation.

"The idea is forbidden love."

Had her chair lacked arm rests, she was sure she would have fallen off. If he didn't look so damn serious, it would have been one hilarious scenario.

Draco Malfoy talking about love? She didn't think he was even capable of loving someone more than himself, his reputation or his fortune. He was willing to fake an engagement with her for Merlin's sake! What would he not do for his money?

"With the war over, what do you think most people crave?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes, unsure of where the conversation was going, and what kind of answer he was looking for. "Long standing peace?"

"Why is that such a Granger thing to say?" Draco chuckled. He saw the argumentative look on her face and moved to cut her off. "Distraction. They crave gossip, Granger. It gives them a sense of power to judge, to ridicule, to berate. The war left many of them incapacitated, penniless, utterly and purely devastated. Many lost people they care about. Some have no one left to care about."

Hermione's lips parted slightly at the strange pensive expression on the blonde Slytherin's face. It seemed like his passing statement affected him more than it should have.

"So wouldn't a scandal of some revered war hero allow them temporary reprieve from their sad pathetic lives?" He chuckled once again. "It gives them a moment of peace. A semblance of control. It makes them realize that their lives aren't the only ones fucked up."

Hermione was glaring at him now, waiting for him to say one wrong word. Her eyes were daring him to challenge her. Whether he understood her silent threat, he gave no indication.

"In conjunction, like moths to a flame, people are intrigued by the forbidden. Anything taboo. So what better way to catch their attention than to give them a predicament involving two people who were at opposing sides during the war?"

Draco paused, eying her silent form from the corner of his gaze. He was wondering when she would finally start shooting her mouth off, but for some weird reason, she was being oddly obliging. He noticed her raise a brow at him, taking it as a cue to continue.

"But of course, simply slapping them with headlines out of the blue won't do us any good. We need to be smart if we want things to be believable. You said so yourself, no one who knows us both would believe it."

She scrunched her eyebrows. "So what do you suggest, then?"

"No publications, no dates in well-known places, no official claims of being together, and most certainly no joint appearances in public events whatsoever." He paused when she saw the look of disbelief on her face. "At least for the time being."

She scoffed, unsure if she should take him seriously or not. "Of course. That makes perfect sense."

"You don't wear sarcasm well, Granger." He rolled his eyes. "We'll go about it the old fashioned way – through gossip by word of mouth."

Hermione stayed silent for a moment, thinking the Malfoy heir would come out and say it was all a joke, but he made no move whatsoever.

" _That's_ your master plan?"

"I'm surprised how much you berate the method. Haven't you met the Patil twins?"

Hermione frowned. Those twins could spread a rumor throughout Hogwarts in less than an hour. And by Hogwarts, she meant every possible corner of the castle. "Fine. Let's assume for a moment that 'word of mouth' effectively spreads the rumors. Would people even believe it without solid proof?"

"Oh Granger." Came Draco's patronizing tone. "You obviously overestimate the intelligence of the average wizard and witch, the same way you underestimate their desire for something positively scandalous. Rest assured that if news about both of us spread, people _will_ flock over the issue."

She raised a brow at his certainty. "What makes you so sure?"

"You are Hermione Granger. You're a war hero, an idol for muggle-born witches and wizards. The rumors about Weasley's betrayal and your eventual break up have left a lot of people disappointed, more so sympathetic. People feel the need to cheer you on, wishing you'd find someone else. Move on. Be happy."

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek to shut her mouth. He didn't seriously think people would believe that she'll find happiness with _him,_ did he?

"You are a symbol of change, of hope, for the Wizarding world. You're the epitome of the reason for fighting for equality. You are revered."

She held her breath, unsure of what possessed him to say such things. She eyed him oddly. Did he even hear himself? 

"Enter. Draco Malfoy, pureblood elitist with an ancestry that instantly compels respect. I am the one true heir of my family's fortune, and one of the most eligible bachelors of this generation." He paused, a conceited smirk on his lips.

Hermione stifled her groan of annoyance, opting to roll her eyes instead. How he could say such things with pride was lost to her.

"Now, with everything that's happened during the war, I am on the road towards redemption. Rehabilitation. Will I succeed? Or will I fail?"

"Are you even trying?"

Draco blinked in surprise, taken aback by her unexpected question. "I beg your pardon?"

"The whole desire for 'redemption'. Is it true, or is it a ruse?" She added, pushing her back off the chair, leaning forward to finally pour herself a cup of tea.

He couldn't tell if she was just curious or if she was doing it on purpose to get a rise out of him. "That part doesn't concern you."

Hermione scoffed as she dropped a spoonful of honey in her tea, eyeing him as she stirred. "Of course it does. It's where you're basing the entire foundation of this arrangement." She paused to take a sip. "It's the irony you're after. My reputation against yours. Your background against mine."

"Exactly. Which is why this arrangement has such a high potential of success. Given those information, how do you think the public would react if word of mouth were to spread that we're seeing each other in secret?"

Hermione didn't miss the way he avoided her question, so she decided to ignore his as well. She shrugged, feeling a small sense of satisfaction when she saw him clear his throat to hide his annoyance.

"Some would be aghast, some surprised, some in disbelief, but I am willing to bet a portion would be supportive as well. People will start to analyze the need for secrecy, and inevitably believe that the affair is more true than false."

"Secrecy doesn't equate to sincerity, Malfoy." She folded her arms across her chest to emphasize her point. "If a relationship was genuine, there would be no need to hide it."

Draco snorted in disbelief at the superior look on her face. That was such a Gryffindor thing to say. "Let's just come out in the open, then. Scream saccharine proses of eternal _love_ at each other."

Hermione rolled her eyes, annoyed by his mocking response. "I'm just saying that if something really is genuine, there would be no hiding, no need for shame."

"Yes. Of course. That would be the case if I were _Weasley."_

"Don't even go there, Malfoy." Her tone was silent but threatening.

Draco stared back at her defiantly, unaffected by the warning. "Fact of the matter is, Granger, I'm not someone you can be with without the need for an explanation. The same is true with me. Do you honestly think people would buy it if we suddenly came out and say we've seen things differently?" He scoffed at how ridiculous that statement was. "Not a single soul in our year at Hogwarts would believe it, let alone Potter and Weasley. We don't need honesty. If that was our intention then why have this meeting at all? What we need is a plan, and a clever one at that."

Hermione frowned. She knew he had a point, but she couldn't help but be argumentative. She clicked her tongue. He just brought out the worst in her. Always have, always will.

"We'll continue in secrecy for as long as necessary. That is, until the necessary people intervene."

She narrowed her eyes. "Who?"

"Who do you think?" Came his challenging tone.

"Your mother?"

An irritated scoff paired with rolling eyes was all Hermione received as a reply.

"What? I'm sure she would be livid to hear that her only son's been cavorting with a mudblood."

Draco froze at the offhanded way she mentioned the derogatory term, but shrugged it off just as quickly. "My mother won't be a concern."

She raised a curious brow at his claim, but he cut her off before she could inquire further. 

"I meant Potter and Weasely."

Draco stared at her for a few seconds – searching, contemplating.

Hermione felt her annoyance grow at the intensity of his gaze. She hated how he looked at her as if he knew something that no one else did. It was as if he could see right through her.

"What makes you so sure they'll intervene?"

"What a pointless question, Granger. You know they will."

She raised an irate brow at the small jab, but decided not to rise to it. "Fine. Say they do, then what?"

He shrugged. "Don't know."

"What?"

"I _don't_ know. The next move would have to be made based on their response."

Hermione pursed her lips, humming to herself, trying to make sense of it all. "So you mean to say… we'll be making this up as we go?"

Draco was itching to correct her 'we' into 'I' but decided otherwise. "Potter and Weasley are very… fickle. You can never tell how they'll respond, though I do have a couple of guesses."

"So… You have _no_ plan?" She summarized.

"I _do_." He interjected with emphasis. "But they are tentative therefore subjected to change."

 _"Right..."_ Hermione drawled, clearly unconvinced.

"Also, depending on what Potter and Weasley do, we'll have to factor in your response as well."

Hermione failed to conceal the surprise on her face. She was so focused on the details that she'd actually forgotten about her part in all of it. Damn git did have a point.

How would she face both of them?

Draco watched her quiet down, lost in her own thoughts. "So as you can see, I've only planned this out as far as possible. At least, as far as accuracy is concerned. But rest assured that the result of this endeavor will remain the same, regardless of whatever happens."

"And that is?"

"My family avoids persecution, while yours avoids permanent separation."


	7. First Date

Hermione huffed for the umpteenth time as she stared at her reflection on the mirror, eyes fixed on the misaligned black wing on her right eyelid. There was a reason why she never bothered to use this abominable thing. How other girls made it look so easy was beyond her. Eye makeup had never been her forte. Blending palettes, a keen eye for symmetry, near perfect depth perception, and an impossibly steady hand were beyond her set of skills.

Her gaze shifted from one eye to another, not quite sure how to fix the unevenness. She glanced at her wand on the table, deliberating on whether she should just give up and use magic. She sighed. She knew she was being unnecessarily stubborn about the whole thing, but there were just some things she wanted to do with her own hands. Yes she was a witch, but she was also a muggle.

The sudden sound of someone arriving via floo grabbed her attention. With a wave of her wand, she vanished the black liner off her eyelids and walked out her bedroom to greet the unexpected visitor.

"Hey there-Woah! Hermione, are you going on a _date_?"

Hermione sighed as a pair of hands landed on her arms, turning her around to inspect the work she'd done on herself. "Nice to see you too, Gin. What brings you here?"

Ginny placed her hands on her waist, eyes scanning Hermione from head to toe. "Let me just…"

Hermione watched the younger witch pull out her wand, chanting a few glamour spells on her hair, then on her face. She sighed again. So much for doing things with her own hands.

"There. Stunning!" Ginny nodded to herself, studying the nude smoky palette she decided on, before smiling at the elegant but slightly messy top bun of curls.

"Thanks Gin." Hermione moved to the kitchen, pulling out two mismatched mugs from the top shelf. "Can I get you anything?" She saw a hand pop out from above the backrest of her couch, a set of bare feet hung unmoving on one end.

"Just water thank you."

"Alright."

"So, who's the lucky guy?"

Hermione glanced back to watch Ginny prop her chin on the backrest, one arm hanging loosely over the couch, staring at her with interest.

"Just someone I met at work." Hermione busied herself with the ice cube tray, ignoring the low hum of interest she received from the red-haired woman. Technically she wasn't lying. She did, sort of, meet him at work.

"Well, I won't pry. I'm just glad, that's all." Ginny flopped back onto the couch, both palms resting on her stomach.

Hermione ignored the small stab of guilt she felt. She wanted to tell Ginny, but it's not like she could. The contract had a very specific nondisclosure clause. Stepping into the living room, Hermione brought down both cups onto the coffee table, taking a seat on the chair adjacent to the couch the redhead had claimed.

"Iced coffee?" Ginny raised an eyebrow at Hermione's choice of beverage. She grinned. "Will there be activities that would require you to stay up until the wee hours of the morning?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at the lecherous way the female Weasley was looking at her. "No." She replied flatly.

"Come on! We're all adults here. No need to be shy."

Hermione shook her head and giggled at the suggestive way the redhead was grinding her hips. "So, are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to ask?"

"Huh?"

"Gin, it's nearly eight in the evening. You're here unannounced, in what I assume are party clothes. You have your hair and makeup done, and you're wearing an obscene amount of fragrance." Hermione paused to scrunch her nose. It not that she didn't like the scent of lily, but to be able to smell it all the way to the kitchen was another story.

"Is everything okay?"

Ginny swung her legs off the couch, sitting up quickly. She folded her arms across her chest, ignoring the way the silver sequins of her slip dress dug into the skin of her forearms. The gesture made one thin strap slide down her shoulder. "What, I can't visit a friend and ask her to hang out spontaneously?"

Hermione could tell she didn't want to talk about it. "Of course you can. But you and I both know I'm not the spontaneous type, nor am I the type to go partying." She gave the redhead a smile to ease the growing tension.

Ginny fixed her gaze on the matching silver strappy sandals that lay haphazardly forgotten on the floor. She hooked one leg over the other, making the hem of her shimmery dress hike up higher over her thigh. "Well, it's just been a while since we've hung out."

Hermione moved to sit beside the pouting woman, throwing an arm over her shoulders. "I'm sorry. That's on me." Back when she and Ron were dating, they would always have brunch at the Burrow every Sunday. Everyone would drop by, and it was always one big celebration.

"How about we go out to dinner sometime this week?"

Ginny wrapped her in a loose hug, leaning her forehead against her shoulder. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Hermione tapped her hand in a comforting rhythm against Ginny's shoulder. She could tell there was something wrong, but she wouldn't push her if she didn't want to talk about it.

Pulling out of the hug, Ginny bent down to don her heels. Taking a few quick gulps of water, she grabbed her nearly forgotten purse off the coffee table. "Well, I won't keep you! Wouldn't want you to be late."

Hermione wanted to talk to the younger woman more, but she knew she had to let it go for now. "I'll owl you about dinner this week."

With a final hug, Ginny apparated out of her apartment.

Hermione sighed. Perhaps Harry knew what was wrong. Should she ask him about it? She shook her head. It's been months since she last talked to him. Meeting him out of the blue, then springing something like this up on him, didn't seem like a wise thing to do. Besides, she was the one who told him she never wanted to speak with him again. She sighed. Just how did things end up this way for all of them?

The soft melodious chime of her clock broke her train of thought. It was eight in the evening. Her initial melancholy turned into annoyance when she remembered the reason why she had to be out on a Saturday evening.

Moving to the shoe rack she had by the door, she quickly changed into a pair of heels. Checking her reflection against the modest mirror by her coat rack, Hermione nodded. Ginny did a pretty good job. She frowned. She didn't want to look like she put a lot of effort into this, but she didn't want to give him the opportunity to make fun of her either. She sighed. This would be a long night.

* * *

Hermione smoothed the edge of her black cocktail dress to calm her nerves. Standing at the entrance of a rather shady establishment, she began to berate herself again for ever trusting in Malfoy in the first place.

Here she was, dressed in a fancy little black dress with matching stilettos, standing in front of a rundown old shack named 'Slither In'. She rolled her eyes. She had no idea what the hell was running through Malfoy's mind when he decided on this place, but if this was another one of his pranks, she would never let him live it down.

Swallowing down the rest of her apprehensions, she pushed the wooden double doors open only to be greeted by the sight of drunken old men gulfing down cheap liquor. There was a musty quality to the air that made her scrunch her nose in disgust. Before she could take another step in or out the door, one of the bartenders walked up to her, bowing curtly in greeting.

"It's a pleasure to have you Ms. Granger. Please, follow me."

Hermione eyed the man suspiciously as he guided them towards the back room. She didn't fail to notice how none of the drunks were paying her any heed despite how out of place she looked. It was almost as if she didn't exist.

The bartender opened the back door, motioning for her to continue on alone. Her eyes landed on the 'staff only' sign plastered on the top wall, tilting her head to one side to scan the rest of the room.

"You want me to go into a dark storage area?" She had one eyebrow raised, throwing a look of incredulity back at the man. She's watched enough horror films, and read enough mystery/thriller books to know that scenarios like these usually led to no good.

The man nodded courteously, clearly unbothered by her suspicion. "Mr. Malfoy is waiting at your table." His hand was still on the door, keeping it open.

Hermione glared at the bartender, eying him up and down in a silent threat. "If this is a trap, I'll see to the foreclosure of this establishment personally."

The man laughed amiably, bowing his head at her in a gesture of amity. "I assure you Miss Granger, this is a perfectly respectable establishment."

Sending him one last glare, Hermione hesitantly took a few steps in to inspect the dimly-lit room. Piles of sealed boxes were strewn everywhere, as were random bottles of liquor and a few wooden crates.

"If you would step on the mark…" The man instructed.

Hermione eyed the ground and saw a large silver square embossed on the otherwise plain flooring. Standing over it, she heard her heels click against the metal. The sudden sound of the door closing, followed by a resounding lock, made her heart skip a beat. She was shrouded in darkness. Just what the hell was-

She screamed at the sudden movement under her feet, but before she could even let out a curse, she felt the floor descending slowly. Gone were the boxes and crates. Instead, four silver walls enclosed her.

Hermione glanced at the wide-eyed expression on her face against the reflective surface. Hearing a strange sound from above, she snapped her head up, only to see the top of the cube that housed her close; its corners lighting up her surroundings in a strange golden glow.

She blinked, realizing that the silver box had morphed into a makeshift elevator with double doors suddenly appearing out of nowhere. Before she could form another coherent thought, the doors pulled apart to reveal a woman in an elegant long silver dress.

"Good evening, Miss Granger."

Hermione blinked at the woman who went on to inform her that her table was ready, saying nothing further as she guided her through the hallway. She could feel the soft red carpet through her heels as she inspected several works of art placed tastefully throughout the stretch. She narrowed her eyes. Whoever owned this establishment was one rich son of a bitch.

Rounding a corner, Hermione watched two men in tuxedos open up a large set of silver doors for the woman and herself. What greeted her next was beyond her expectation.

Standing at the top of a flight of marble stairs, Hermione looked on at the ballroom before her. White pristine marble floors reflected the beautiful floating crystal candles. The ceiling was adorned with hanging purple and white orchids, crawling down the pillars and walls, ending just before they hit the floor. A live band was playing at the corner of the room, a few couples slow dancing romantically at the open space. Tables were stacked and stationed by the walls inside spacious cubicles, giving guests as much privacy as possible.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"If you would please follow me?"

Hermione muttered an apology as she descended the flight of stairs. Her eyes kept darting around the luxurious ballroom as the woman led her to the corner most part of the first row of tables. There she finally caught sight of Malfoy conversing with a waiter.

"Pardon me, Mr. Malfoy? Miss Granger has arrived." The woman smiled and bowed before taking her leave. Not soon after, the waiter followed suit as Malfoy stood up to greet her.

"I'm glad you could make it." He nodded, crossing the table smoothly to hold a chair out for her. "You look lovely."

When her initial awe of the place finally died down, Hermione eyed him with disdain. "What exactly were you trying to achieve by not telling me of this place?"

Draco fought a smirk. He would have paid good money just to see the expression on her face when she realized what kind of establishment she was about to head into. He knew he should have told her right from the start. But he didn't want to miss the chance to rattle the Golden Girl's nerves up a bit.

"I wanted to surprise you."

"Bull shit."

Now he couldn't hold back a grin. "It's always amusing to hear you curse, Granger."

"Want to hear another one?" She replied through a polite fake smile.

He scoffed in amusement. "I'll pass. I would rather see you enjoy yourself this evening." He gestured a hand towards the chair she still refused to sit on.

Hermione blinked, slightly taken aback by how serious Malfoy was about taking the role of prince charming. "Wow." She deadpanned. She knew they both agreed on being civil but this was something else entirely.

Draco raised an eyebrow at the scrutinizing glance she was sending his way. "Is there a problem?"

Hermione released a long sigh, trying her best to swallow a biting remark. "No. Not really. I just find this version of you…" She paused, rolling one hand out repeatedly, eyes darting around, trying her best to find nicer words.

Draco scoffed in amusement, not failing to notice how much effort she was putting into being tactful. "Unsettling?"

"For lack of a better word." She nodded. "In all honesty, I would appreciate it if you would be less complimentary, and bit more... professional."

Draco blinked in response. "I didn't realize I was being _too_ complimentary. It wasn't my intention to make you uncomfortable."

He didn't think he was acting particularly out of character, but then he remembered it was _her_ he was with. Any ounce of civility from him would make her question his intentions entirely. "Professional it is, then."

Hermione nodded once again, still not quite sure how to respond to a compromising Malfoy.

"Are we going to stand all evening, or will we finally make use of these perfectly comfortable set of chairs?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione moved to sit on the chair he was still holding out for her. She felt him push it back gently against her as she bent down. Rounding the table with much finesse, she watched him take the chair opposite hers.

A waiter came by presenting them with a bottle of wine, explaining the origins of the liquor, details of its aroma, and the painstaking process of its extraction and fermentation. Hermione fought the urge to scoff at the pretentiousness of it all.

After pouring each of them a glass, the waiter replaced the wine in the canister of ice. Bowing to each of them and hoping they'd enjoy their evening, he took his leave.

Draco raised a glass. "If I may, I would like to offer a toast." He paused, watching her stare at her own drink before moving to grab it. "To a memorable evening." He finally added.

"To a memorable evening." Hermione mumbled through a tight smile, feeling every bit apprehensive as they clinked their glasses. One sip of the glorious wine, however, made her momentarily forget why she was so anxious in the first place.

"This is delicious."

"I'm glad it suits your taste."

Hermione nodded, her attention on the swirling liquid in her glass, eying Malfoy through the corner of her eyes. If someone at Hogwarts told her that one day she'd be out on a date with her childhood bully, she was sure she would have laughed herself silly.

"So, care to tell me about your journey-"

"No." Hermione glared at his amused expression. She knew he did it on purpose, inviting her to a place like this without so much of a warning.

"But you have to admit the trip was worth it." Draco smirked smugly when he saw her begrudgingly agree.

"So how exactly did you discover this?" Hermione's eyes darted off to the beautiful interior of the hidden restaurant. "And please don't tell me it's really called 'Slither In'."

Draco chuckled at the unexpected question. "Granger, out of all the things you could ask about, you're going for that?"

Hermione stared at him through narrowed eyes. "Why would anyone want to name this beautiful place with something so atrocious?"

"Careful. You're this close to blasphemy." Draco raised his thumb and index finger to emphasize his point. "Slytherin is a beautiful name."

"Slytherin and 'Slither In' are two very different things." She watched him chuckle once again.

"When I suggested the name to Blaise I didn't think he would take it seriously. I just said a couple of innuendos to get him off my back."

"Zabini owns this?" She failed to hide her surprise.

"Just a small business we started out of boredom."

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. Only two spoiled rich kids would think of constructing such a large scale project out of 'boredom'. She took another sip of her wine, raising a questioning brow when he leaned in slightly, voice quieting down.

"Don't tell him I told you this." He paused, eyes darting to the sides, making sure no one was within speaking distance. "But he actually modeled this place after his ideal wedding reception."

Hermione snorted, failing to hold back a smile. "You're kidding."

Draco shook his head as he blinked slowly to emphasize his point. "He might look all dark, broody and mysterious, but that guy's all mush and romance deep down."

Hermione couldn't help but scoff in amusement at the revelation. It went against her entire image of Blaise Zabini. He always had that quiet but annoying arrogance, and the 'I'm too good for any of this shit' demeanor. Sure he wasn't as outspoken as Malfoy had been, after all, Malfoy was a breed of his own; but he still had the same air of entitlement. The possibility of Blaise Zabini being a closeted romantic was something that never even crossed her mind. 

"I find that hard to imagine."

Draco waved a hand in front of his face in nonchalance. "Oh you'll understand what I mean once you get to know him."

Her and Zabini getting to know each other? Hermione chuckled at the thought. Her eyes met Malfoy's amiable ones for a moment, feeling a bucket of ice water douse her veins.

She blinked. The realization that she was out on a date with Draco Malfoy, and was actually feeling quite pleasant about it suddenly dawned to her. Her smile faded instantaneously, feeling a strange chill crawl down her spine. She cleared her throat.

"May I head to the loo?"

"Of course."

Draco tried to act as if he didn't notice the sudden change in her demeanor, nodding towards the usher at the end of the hall. He watched her disappear from his sight in silence. He clicked his tongue. Just when he was finally getting her to let her guard down.

* * *

Hermione scanned the marble bathroom, making sure she was alone. Realizing it was safe, she leaned both her hands on the edge of the sink, staring herself down against the mirrored wall.

She couldn't believe that for a second she forgot who she was dealing with. This was Draco Malfoy – the youngest Death Eater, her mortal enemy, and the face of prejudice and injustice in her life. She knew she had to be civil with him, but she shouldn't have allowed herself to relax that much. She even laughed at his jokes for crying out loud!

She could tell that he's changed to a certain degree, but she also knew how cunningi he was, and how much of a great actor he could be whenever it would suit his interest. He was a man of many faces and it frustrated her that she couldn't pin him down.

_(Flashback)_

_Hermione watched as Malfoy handed her his signed copy of the contract she amended. She blinked. She didn't think he would immediately agree to the added terms and conditions._

_"Did you read the contract?"_

_Draco raised an eyebrow in offense. "Do you think I'm stupid?"_

_The urge to agree just to get a rise out of him was strong, but Hermione chose to stay silent. Taking the stack of papers in one hand, she leaned back against the gray velvet chair she was really starting to like._

_"Just making sure."_

_Draco stared at her without a word, before jutting his chin towards the contract. "Your turn." He rolled his eyes when he saw her scan each page with a discerning eye, wand in one hand. "I didn't rig the damn thing."_

_"Yes, and I'm just supposed to take your word for it, of course."_

_Draco glared at her offhanded reply, not even bothering to offer him a glance. He said nothing as he watched her utter a few spells and counter curses against the slips of paper, swallowing back the sarcastic remarks he was dying to throw back at her._

_After what seemed like forever, from the corner of his eye, Draco finally saw her move to take his quill on the coffee table. Dipping it lightly on the pot of ink, she moved towards the dotted line. He held his breath, dropping his gaze to study the stale cup of tea he'd been twirling around in his hand._

_He_ _watched her let out a breath, before finally scribbling down her signature onto the bottom of the parchment. He stood up, covering his ragged breathing with a short cough. Moving towards the bookcase by the liquor table, he pulled out a thin stack of papers lying on top of a row of books._

_Hermione blinked when he handed her another set of parchments, no more than a few pages. "What's that?"_

_"Proof of your account." Draco replied nonchalantly, pushing it towards her fervently when she didn't make a move to get them. "I'll have it set up for you by tomorrow. Like we agreed on, half of the money will be transferred upon signing the contract, then the other half follows upon it's completion. All you have to do is drop by Gringotts within the week to sign the papers to gain access to it."_

_Hermione placed the contract on the coffee table, taking the documents in one hand. It was no more than four pages. She read it carefully, taking note of things she needed to clarify with him. "And there's no way anyone can trace this back to you?"_

_"Granger, I don't think I need to lecture you of all people about Gringotts. After all, didn't you and your merry band of friends break in?"_

_Hermione raised an eyebrow at the unnecessary jab. She was well aware that goblins had a code that forbade them to speak of the bank's secrets, and that it was considered grave treachery to break any part of that code. It was precisely the reason why Bellatrix was able to store a Horcrux in her vault all those years._

_"Exactly. My 'merry band of friends' and I were able to break in. So wouldn't a leak of information be an angle worth exploring?"_

_Draco release a sigh of impatience. "Seeing as you've never had a Gringotts account, I guess it's understandable that you don't know. Goblins don't keep official documents. After you present your proof of account, that paper will burn. As for how accounts are accessed, I'd like to think you won't need an explanation. Or do you?"_

_"No, I don't." Hermione could feel her annoyance morphing into a steady burn of ire at the patronizing way he was addressing her. "But I'd also like for you to know that the only reason we were capable of breaking into Gringotts was because Griphook helped us, in exchange for the sword of Gryffindor. He was convinced it had been stolen from Ragnuk, the maker of the sword, and was thus, goblin property. His loyalty to his race seemed to override the code created to protect the bank." She folded both her arms across her chest. "So tell me, Malfoy, if my 'merry band of friends' and I were capable of gaining a goblin's assistance, who's to say that this information won't be privy to anyone else?"_

_Draco let out a breath of annoyance. "If you must know, I'll be tasking someone else to handle your account."_

_"And there's no way they can trace that person back to you?"_

_"Why so skeptical Granger? If someone should be extra vigilant, it should be me."_

_"Well excuse me for not wanting anyone to find out about this arrangement."_

_Draco chuckled to himself, but his eyes were far from amused. "You and me both, Granger. You and me both."_

_(End of Flashback)_

Hermione released a long sigh. He was like a chameleon. The Malfoy at the hospital, the Malfoy in his temporary home, and this Malfoy in the restaurant, seemed like three very different people.

His ability to shift their conversation, and transform it into friendly grounds was definitely something to be weary of. Analyzing their earlier exchange, Hermione couldn't help but feel threatened at how easy it was for him to make her comfortable. She couldn't even pinpoint which part of their dialogue changed the entire atmosphere of their 'date'.

She huffed at her reflection in the mirror. She needed to pull herself together and not let her guard down like that again.

She knew this wasn't a contest, and that they were both in it for mutual benefit, but she couldn't help but feel like she was losing. She needed to regain some control over their situation.

She would respect him as much as she could, but she should never make the mistake of trusting him. After all, he had a personal agenda. She was just another pawn for him to make use of, but she'd be damned if she would let that happen.

If he thought for a second that he's already won, then he's got another thing coming.

* * *

"Sorry I took so long." Hermione watched Malfoy stand in attention, pulling out the chair for her once again.

"It's fine. You didn't take that long."

They stayed silent as they settled down. Draco watched her pick at the appetizer on her plate, sighing to himself. He had a feeling this would happen.

"So, what was the real reason for the bathroom break?"

"I'm sorry?"

Draco sighed once again. "Listen Granger. I understand that the two of us somewhat 'getting along' is a concept that is so foreign that you can't begin to wrap your head around it... But like we agreed on, this is a compromise. I'm trying to look at you through fresh, unprejudiced eyes, and I hope you can do the same for me."

Hermione could only blink in surprise, not expecting him to call her out.

"Granger?" Came his annoyed tone at the lack of a response.

Hermione blinked again, realizing she had yet to give him a reply. She just didn't know what to expect from him. He always seemed to catch her off guard and it was annoying.

"Don't you think I'm trying? I just can't help but think that you always have an ulterior motive, a hidden agenda. I can't help but analyze everything you do and say, and try to connect it with something I'm supposed to expect in the future." She huffed. "But like I said, I'm _trying_. I just need time. Besides, it's not like you trust me either."

Draco wanted to run a hand through his hair but stopped himself. She was being unreasonable. "What does trust have anything to do with having decent conversations?"

"It makes things more natural. Genuine." Hermione replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Being able to speak your mind... You need trust for that."

"It's _just_ small talk Granger." Came his aggravated tone. "We're not talking about the fate of the entire world. What, do you need to be able to trust me with your life just to let me know if you're enjoying your salad?"

Hermione wanted to chuck the piece of cheese on her fork, straight into his eye. "I _just_ need a bit more time, Malfoy. Would you stop bitching?"

The slight recoil of his body and the wide-eyed stare she got from him, made her want to pat herself on the back. She watched him quickly school his features back in place.

"I always knew you had a _filthy_ mouth."

Hermione narrowed her eyes as the conversation continued to steer into dangerous territory. "Go on." She challenged. "What was that about being filthy?" She watched him take a bite from his salad, his eyes on her never leaving.

"I'm not the one with a poor vocabulary. Resulting to curses? What's the matter, Granger? Forgot how to use your brain?"

"Oh I know how to use it just fine. I just wasn't sure you'd be able to keep up if I used too many big words."

Hermione took another sip of her wine, watching him munch on his food with a grace that made her want to roll her eyes. Their silent gazes bore into each other, punishing and relentless.

Neither wanted to concede.

Draco knew that he had to. As much as he hated to admit it, his aggravation got the better of him. She just infuriated him beyond reason. She was exhausting to be around, and incredibly frustrating to talk to.

A pair of waiters came by to take away their plates, setting down the next course wordlessly, before bidding them farewell.

Draco silently thanked the intrusion. They ate in silence this time, neither willing to engage in unnecessary conversation. The courses passed by in a flurry.

"I apologize for my earlier behavior." He let out a resigned sigh. "Given our past, I would still say that the two of us sitting here and not trying to kill one another is a good start."

Hermione raised a brow. They were damn well ready to. She watched Malfoy busy himself with cutting a piece of steak, only then realizing he'd just apologized to her. She knew it was completely insincere, but just the fact that he actually uttered the words made her smirk.

"I'm not sure I heard you. Could you repeat that?" A bored glance was all she got as a reply.

The 11-year-old in her wanted to lord it over his head _so_ much, but she knew it would get them nowhere. "I guess you do know how to apologize."

"So you heard it the first time."

"I thought my ears were deceiving me. I wanted to check."

Draco said nothing, opting to throw her a pointed glance before focusing the rest of his attention on his plate.

Hermione sighed, trying her best to let it go. She leaned back against the chair, folding her arms across her chest, allowing herself to eye the interior of the restaurant once again. "Now that I think about it, it was clever of you to pick this place. Since you and Zabini own it, we're assured this won't leak out to the public."

"Oh? What makes you so sure about that?"

She narrowed her eyes at the meaningful glance he was sending her way. "What do you mean?"

"I'll let you in on a little secret..." He leaned forward; his gray eyes on her were unrelenting. "There's someone in this restaurant who has a great view of our table."

She began to turn her head, but he was quick to get a hold of her cheek. _"Ah._ No peaking." He felt her swallow, feeling awkward with his hand against the side of her face. "She'll notice."

 _"Fine._ I won't look." Hermione whispered through gritted teeth, tilting her head slightly out of his grasp. "Now let go."

Bringing his hand down, Draco nodded his thanks. "Thank you for not slapping my hand off your face. It would have been a cause for concern."

"If you weren't stupid enough to forget to let me know that we needed to put on a show, you wouldn't have had to worry about such trivial things." She bit back, glaring at him with poorly veiled annoyance.

"Hate me for it or not, but this was a test. And an important one at that. I wanted to see if you could be civil with me despite not having the pressure of being forced to."

Hermione let out a slow breath, frustrated by the fact that Malfoy was the one calling all the shots. "And did I pass?" She mocked.

"Just barely." He smirked; glad he was able to stop himself from commenting on her obsession with grades.

"Who are we putting on a show for?"

"Now, where would all the fun be if you knew?" He moved out of his chair slowly, heading straight for her. "But now that you understand our situation…" He paused to offer her a hand. "Would you care for a dance?"

Hermione smiled back at him tightly, glancing at his outstretched hand in disinterested. "Tell me who's watching, Malfoy."

He raised a brow at her stubbornness, nudging his palm closer towards her. "You do know how weird we look right now, don't you?"

"Then I guess you better give me an answer."

Draco sighed, gently taking her hand off the table, before bowing down to bring it to his lips for a quick kiss. He looked back at her, surprised to see the slight color on her cheeks.

He smirked. It seems she wasn't so immune to him after all.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She whispered through gritted teeth.

He ignored her indignation, tugging her up to her feet as he moved them away from the table. "Astoria Greengrass. She was my fiancé up until my father's incarceration."

Hermione schooled her expression, replying through yet another tight smile. "That gesture was unnecessary."

His smirk never faded as he claimed a space for them on the dance floor, speaking loud enough only for the two of them to hear. "Oh but your expression was _perfect._ After all, genuine reactions are always better than fake ones."

Twirling her into a Waltz position, Draco made sure to hold her close. "Rest assured." He paused, keeping his lips over the shell of her ear. "This gossip will spread like wildfire."

* * *

A NEW POWER COUPLE IS ABOUT TO BE BORN

Hermione grit her teeth as she read through the article. Skeeter was at it again. She clicked her tongue. She should have just kept her in that jar for all eternity.

She didn't know what offended her more, the constant mentioning of Malfoy being one of the most eligible bachelors of his generation, or the fact that she was stated as having had relations with both Ron _and_ Harry in the past.

Hermione threw the useless tabloid towards the flames, annoyed that someone like Skeeter was even allowed to own a publishing company.

"Honestly, who would buy this crap?"

Her eyes landed on the small scrap of paper on the coffee table.

EXPLAIN.

She sighed. Apparently Ginny did. It surprised her to see the younger woman's owl in her living room first thing in the morning. She massaged her temples in aggravation. What would she tell her?

Hermione didn't expect things to escalate so quickly. That tabloid had no proof except for an anonymous tip, and yet they published the story in the front page.

She scoffed. What ever happened to responsible journalism? She hated to admit it, but Malfoy was right. People really were hungry for a scandal.

"Speaking of Malfoy..."

She sighed. She didn't want to admit it, but her evening with him wasn't as disastrous as she thought it would be. She was somewhat beginning to understand why the girls back at Hogwarts were after him.

Sure she was well aware that he was on his best behavior that night, and that most of what she saw was a façade, but she was still surprised how much of a gentleman he could be if he wanted to.

She scoffed. There it was, the operative term 'if he wanted to'.

Obviously he was doing it for his own personal gain, but the thought of Malfoy putting that much effort into their fake first date still made her smile bitterly. This was by far the best date she's ever been on, and to think that Malfoy would be the one holding that title, Hermione was beginning to get a sour taste in her mouth.

* * *

Draco stared at the tabloid floating over him in contemplation.

"Well? Is it just me, or do you not seem pleased?" Theo raised an eyebrow as he pulled the paper out of his childhood friend's line of sight, leaning it against one leg.

Draco released a long sigh, draping an arm over his tired eyes. When the floo chimed in this morning, he had every intention of ignoring who it was. After all, his mother never had visitors so he was sure it had been Blaise. But when he heard his bedroom door unlock, followed by the shift of weight on his bed, he knew it had to be Theo.

As much as Draco hated to admit it, the Nott heir had always been good at breaking spells. That, and only he had the gall to invade his personal space without any regard for possible repercussions.

"What's the problem? Isn't this what you wanted?"

Draco released another long sigh, too tired to get angry. "I didn't think word would get out this quick. This would be a problem for Granger."

"Why?"

"She'd be forced to deal with the reality of our situation earlier than expected."

"But this is Granger we're talking about. I'm sure she came prepared." Theo shrugged as he dropped backwards on the bed, ignoring the click of Draco's tongue. "She signed the bloody contract and even amended portions of it. I bet she even has the damn thing memorized." 

"Knowing is different from understanding, Theo."

Theo placed both hands under his head, nudging Draco's foot with his elbow to make space. "Well it's not like she can back out now."

Draco kicked back against the annoying jabbing against his foot. "She can."

Theo crunched his upper body up, eyeing the Malfoy heir in disbelief. "What?"

"It was written in the contract. If, at any point, either of us wish to end the agreement, then it would take effect immediately. The consequence for whoever cancels would be to pay the other party the full amount indicated, and sign a nondisclosure contract that would take all the details of this partnership to the grave."

"Wait, what?" Theo bolted up. "You didn't add a nondisclosure clause in your contract?"

"I did. She amended it. The effect lasts only up until the conditions are reached, or if either of us choose to end it. Regardless, the nondisclosure stands only as long as the contract is valid."

Theo blinked, speechless for a moment. "Doesn't that put you at a disadvantage?"

Draco shrugged. "It's a risk I'm willing to take. She was very particular about the security measures to ensure this arrangement isn't leaked to the public. So I just have to trust that she doesn't want this out in the open as much as I do."

Theo folded his arms across his chest, eying him oddly. "You seem to take an awful lot of risks with this one." He grinned. "Doesn't seem like you."

Draco glared at the amused Nott heir, but the sudden change in the latter's expression made him raise an eyebrow in annoyance. "What?"

"Wait, how is it possible for you to talk to me about all this? The secrecy applies both ways, doesn't it?"

Draco grinned as he lay his head back down the soft silk pillow. "The nondisclosure took effect on the day the contract was signed. It doesn't cover the ones who knew about it prior to the arrangement."

Theo scoffed at the smug look the Malfoy heir donned. "Look at you! Patting yourself on the back for pulling one up over our class valedictorian!"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "A class what?"

"Valedictorian! It's a muggle term for someone who's the top of the class." Theo beamed, always happy to have an opportunity to flaunt his knowledge. "You would have been called the class salutatorian. You know, because you were _second."_

Draco rolled his eyes before glaring up at the ceiling. "Whatever."

Theo's grin widened. It was one of his favorite pastimes – reminding Draco that he wasn't the smartest one back at Hogwarts. It didn't matter that he wasn't able to beat the Malfoy heir in a lot of things. At least he wasn't number one in everything.

"What brings you here this early in the morning, Theo?" Came his aggravated tone.

"Ah! I almost forgot."

Draco felt something land on his bare chest. Grabbing it blindly with one hand, he brought it up over his eyes. "What's this?"

"It's an invitation." Theo stood up from the bed. "Pansy's opening another boutique and expects all of us to come to the ribbon cutting. This one's in Paris. She knows it's is within the limitations of your parole, so you aren't exempt this time."

Draco groaned. He could tolerate hanging out with the entire gang, but to travel to the muggle world for a ridiculous ceremony was a completely different story. What kind of idiotic practice was 'ribbon cutting' anyway?

"Come on, Draco! Blaise and I will be there. We'll just pop in and out real quick! Where's your team spirit?!"

Draco glared at Theo, irked by his enthusiasm so early in the morning.

"I know you've never been to the muggle world, but I promise we won't go anywhere else other than Pansy's shop. It's at a quaint neighborhood, away from all the scary monsters that move!" Theo teased, recalling the way the Malfoy heir had paled when he showed him photographs of planes and automobiles. "Besides, it's the perfect photo opportunity! The Malfoy heir caught traveling in the _muggle_ world? Think about the wonders it'll do for your reputation!"

Draco sighed, too groggy to debate. "I'll think about it."

Theo blinked. "Oh." In Draco Malfoy language, that was as good as a yes. "Alright, then. I'll see you!" Raising the three-finger rock and roll hand gesture he loved so much, he gave his childhood friend a broad grin before stalking off towards the door.

"Oh and Theo."

Holding the door open half way, Theo turned back to glance at the grumpy blonde. He was sitting up on the bed now, covers dropping down to his hips. He watched him yawn lazily before glaring back at him in what the he assumed was the Malfoy heir's attempt at being imposing.

"Next time you barge in my room, I'll make you regret it."

Theo smirked at image of the hungover blonde, spouting out threats first thing in the morning. "I know what image you're trying to go for, but bed hair, bloodshot eyes, and a deathly pale complexion doesn't really do it. But you're welcome to try!"

* * *

"When were you going to tell me?"

Harry's hand paused midair, the strap of his sling bag dangling in his fingers. "I beg your pardon?"

Ron glanced around the nearly empty Auror office, tilting his head towards a space far from prying eyes. Harry dropped the bag back on his table, following the redhead off to the corner.

"I heard about it yesterday when we were at the Burrow for brunch." Ron paused, folding his arms across his chest as he leaned against the wall. "And I wouldn't have learned about it if Lav hadn't accidentally spilled wine on her dress."

"You finally brought Lavender to meet your parents?" Harry watched Ron's sullen expression shift into that of excitement.

"Yeah, mate! I decided it was time to since we've been solid for a full half year. I was scared shitless but I'm glad none of them were an ass about it. I mean, it wasn't exactly a warm reception but at least they were all nice to her. She told me she had a good time too, and wouldn't mind coming to another Sunday family brunch again!"

Harry smiled, placing a hand on his best friend's shoulder. "That's great news, Ron."

"Yeah! I was so worried about it all week. I didn't think-" Ron paused, realization finally settling in. "Hey! We're supposed to be talking about you not me!"

Harry chuckled, bringing both palms up in surrender. "I was genuinely curious, Ron! I'm happy for you, really I am."

Ron huffed. It was impossible to be mad at this bloke. "Anyway, Gin lent her a dress to change in and Lav told me about how it was cute that she maintained her childhood bedroom despite already living with you." Ron paused, noting the way his best friend's gaze shifted to the ground. "Harry, we both know she cleared out that room the day she moved in with you. I asked mom and she told me Gin's been living there for the past month, but she wouldn't say anything else." He paused, waiting for the bespectacled man to say something, but he stayed silent.

"Harry, why is Gin back at the Burrow?"

Harry sighed, digging both his hands into the pockets of his uniform. "We broke up."

Ron let out a long sigh. "I figured as much."

Both men stayed silent, unsure of what to say.

"Is it okay if I ask why?"

Harry glanced back at the concerned look the redhead sent his way. He ran a hand through his hair. "Remember those things you said about your relationship with Hermione?"

Ron nodded slowly, apprehensive about the sudden change in discussion. "What about it?"

"You said, other people were staring to settle down but both of you couldn't seem to find your place – couldn't seem to fit." Harry paused, leaning his back against the wall, head tilted up to look at the ceiling. "That's how I felt. But not with me and Gin. With myself."

Ron narrowed his eyes, clearly confused.

"Defeat Voldemort. Be the hero. Become an auror. Defend the world. That's my script. It always has. But does it always have to be?"

Ron said nothing, simply looking on in concern at the melancholic man before him.

"My entire life, I've been told what to do. By prophecies. By authorities. By everyone. But when I stopped to think about what I wanted, what I _really_ wanted…" He paused, giving Ron a sad smile. "I had no clue."

"Well, we're still young. It's alright to not know what we want to be." Ron whispered in assurance, placing a hand over Harry's shoulder in comfort.

"You don't understand Ron. This isn't just about a career path. It's about my entire life." He started pacing around the cramped corner they were in. "It's always just been about staying alive. Always down to fight or die. It was that simple. But now, when I ask myself what it is that I want, now that I actually have the time to think outside of just surviving, I... I don't have an answer. " He paused, shrugging to himself.

Whenever he would try to envision himself five, ten, or even 20 years from now, he couldn't picture it. It came up blank. He never realized how hard it was to think about the future. All he's ever had to do about was worry about tomorrow. Just the next day. One day at a time.

Ron pulled his hand off Harry's shoulder, not knowing what to say. He always wondered how his best friend handled the pressure, because he knew that if he had been in his place, he would have cracked under it a long time ago. He sighed. 

Harry's life had never really been his. His choices and his actions always resulted in a ripple that affected thousands of lives – usually deciding who lived and who died. It was the kind of responsibility that should never fall on the shoulders of one person, let alone a young child. It wasn't just paralyzing. It was traumatic. 

"Ginny started talking about the future and… She had all these plans, all these visions about how things would be like in a set number of years. And I had..." He ran a hand through his face in aggravation. "I had _nothing._ She mentioned marriage and children, and I… I don't even know if I want that for myself."

Ron eyed his best friend in silence, not knowing what to say.

Harry let out a mirthless laugh. "Voldemort's finally dead! I can finally live my life the way I want to! But instead I'm a 20-year-old without a goal, without a dream." He paused to glance at Ron who was now looking down at the floor.

"I know I sound overdramatic. Ridiculous even! But… I just!" He let out an impatient sigh, running a hand through his hair as he began pacing around the corner of the room once again. "For once, I just want to figure things out on my own. Do things because I want to, and not because someone said so or someone's life depends on it. I just… I just want the freedom to choose and the opportunity to look for options." He sighed, sending Ron a look of uncertainty. "I'm being selfish, aren't I?"

"No. You're not." He shook his head. "Harry, I'm not going to pretend to understand what you're going through. But there's one thing that's clear to me." He walked towards his longtime best friend, placing both hands over his shoulders. "No one can tell you how to live your life. Only you can. And I think it's high time you finally made decisions just for yourself. If you think this is something that you need to do, do it. To hell what other people think!"

Harry felt his eyes prick, willing himself to hold back the tears. He never realized how much he wanted to hear those words. "Thanks, Ron."

Hooking an arm over Harry's shoulders, Ron maneuvered them both out of the corner, walking back towards their cubicles. "I don't care if you already have plans, but we're going out for a drink!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who's been leaving comments and constructive criticisms down below :)
> 
> I hope you'll all continue to enjoy the story, and I hope it provides a bit of an escape from reality. We all need it during these trying times. Stay safe everyone, and take care!


	8. Muggle World

Hermione stood at the entrance of the Brews and Stews Cafe already dreading what was to come. After Ginny sent her the tabloid, the younger witch had been adamant about meeting up as soon as possible. So here she was, on a Tuesday night, barely able to sneak in six hours of sleep after a grueling 36-hour hospital duty thanks to a team of aurors who barged in after intercepting an illegal trade of magical creatures. Those poachers sure knew their dark arts well. She sighed.

Hermione took a deep breath before stepping into the restaurant, glad to see that it was nearly empty. The hustle and bustle of the hospital demanded her full attention, making it easy for her to tune out all the gossip flittering around her. But the moment she stepped into Hogsmeade Village, the rumor mills hit her like a storm.

"Over here!"

She glanced over to one side, seeing Ginny waving at her. She was at a table by the corner of the restaurant far from the window. It was a spot that wasn't easily visible to the café patrons.

Hermione let out a sigh the moment she sat down on the chair. She was a lot more exhausted than she thought. "Hey Gin, sorry I'm late."

Ginny waved a dismissive hand in the air. "Don't worry about it."

Hermione took the menu off the table, scanning it attentively to avoid the gaze of the younger witch. "So what will you be having? I've only been here once, a long time ago. Any recommendations?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

The prolonged pause made Hermione tear her gaze off the list of entrées, and onto the smirking woman sitting right across her.

"I recommend you tell me about your date with Malfoy."

Hermione expected this. She knew the redhead would try to interrogate her about the article on the tabloid, but knowing that fact didn't make the experience any less troublesome. "What are you talking about?"

"Playing dumb?" Ginny raised an eyebrow in interest, resting her chin on the palm of her hand. "You must really want to keep things secret."

Hermione sighed. "Gin, you of all people should know by now not to believe everything you read."

"So it's a lie?" The youngest Weasley challenged.

"Anything Rita Skeeter writes is a lie."

"So Malfoy coming to St. Mungos and requesting for you specifically was a lie as well?"

"You know I can't divulge patient information. It's part of my oath as a healer."

"So that's a yes?"

Ginny watched her blink in silence, huffing in annoyance at the absence of an answer. Clearly the older witch had been prepared. She expected her to be a bit more flustered if it had been true, or angry at the blasphemy. But she was neither. Which meant she was hiding something.

"You know, I expected more of a reaction from you." Ginny paused, her eyes watching Hermione's every move. "Aren't you pissed that Skeeter is once again dragging your name? And this time by linking you to Malfoy."

"Gin, if I react to every stupid thing she writes about me, then she wins. She'll get more publicity. She can print more articles about me. She can spin the words I throw at her any way she sees fit and..." She shrugged. "It would never end."

"So you're just going to _let_ her?" Ginny failed to hide the judgment in her tone.

"Sometimes the best response is the withdrawal of attention."

Ginny folded her arms across her chest. "Okay... So if it's not Malfoy, then who was the guy you went out on a date with then?"

"Is it okay if I keep it to myself first?" Hermione pressed her palms together, eying her imploringly. "I mean, it is just _one_ date. I don't want to jinx it by telling anyone about it yet."

Ginny sighed in defeat, unfolding her arms to lay her hands back on the table. "Fine. I guess I sort of understand what you mean. Come to think of it, when you and my idiot brother got together, you didn't tell anyone at first."

Hermione nodded, secretly glad she got the younger witch to drop the topic.

"But, I hope you know that I'm just here if you ever need to talk to someone, okay?"

Hermione reached out to grasp the redhead's hand in her own, hoping the gesture would reassure her. "Thank you, Gin. I promise you'll be one of the first people I'll tell if it works out." She lied through her teeth, knowing it would never get to that point. Just the idea of her and Malfoy 'working out' made her want to snort. 

"And I promise I'll be super supportive!" Ginny grinned, squeezing the hand that held her tightly. "Unless, of course, it's Malfoy!" She joked, laughing out loud. "I'd have to make sure you aren't under the influence of the imperius curse!"

* * *

"You ready?"

Draco ignored the amused tone that reached his ears as he took a sip from his cup of coffee. It's been a week since the rumors of his date with Granger started circulating. He had to admit, he didn't expect the Gryffindor know-it-all to handle it this well.

Blaise eyed him curiously as he flipped the beige envelope through his fingers. "It's been a few days since she sent you this note. Did she finally tell you where you guys are going?"

"The arrangement was one subtle public appearance every week. We each get to pick where, alternately. I had my turn, now it's hers." Draco watched Blaise pluck out the letter hidden inside the uninspired packet. "Since I didn't give her details regarding the venue of our last date, I'm guessing she feels the need to do the same." He snorted at her pettiness.

Blaise chuckled to himself as he scanned the letter once again. "I wonder what she plans on doing by asking you to 'wear comfortable clothes that wouldn't make you stand out'." He paused to point at a portion of the card. "She even gave a list of possible options, as well as ones you should avoid." He snickered.

Draco simply rolled his eyes. He had half a mind to wear the items she specifically requested him _not_ to, but he knew better than that.

"She's even asking you to bring a jacket, and I quote 'something lightweight and weather appropriate'."

Draco drank the rest of his coffee as he checked the time. He would be lying if he said it didn't piss him off that she was bossing him around; but the idea that he could get back at her gave him solace. "I should be heading out."

Blaise grinned as he watched Draco grab the gray blazer behind his chair, draping it over his forearm. "Have fun." He teased in a singsong tone. The crack of apparition was all he got as a response.

* * *

Draco scrunched his noise at the sudden onslaught of sewage and compost, with a side of livestock. He knew they were trying to keep things mum and low key, but did they really have to meet at an apparition point near a poultry factory?

"Glad to know you followed instructions."

Turning around, he raised a brow at the approving glance the bushy haired woman gave him. Pinching his nose to emphasize his discomfort, he clicked his tongue.

"Granger, can you save your ogling for another time and get us the hell out of this dump?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, unsurprised by the attitude. She moved wordlessly towards him reaching a hand out. She watched him lean back slightly, raising a brow in inquiry.

"Relax, your _highness."_ Came her condescending tone. "I have a portkey."

His eyes widened in panic. "Portkey?! Where the hell are you taking me?" Without another word, he sensed her aim for his wrist. He avoided her grasp, but she snatched the fabric of his shirt instead. He cursed at the familiar but annoying pull of being transported to only Merlin knew where.

When he finally felt his feet land on the floor, he grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her hand off his shirt. "You fucking idiot! I'm on parole I can't just-"

"We're in muggle _London._ This falls _within_ your parole conditions. I _checked."_ Hermione tried to hide a wince of pain as she glared back at him. She raised a hand against his own, but his hold on her was iron. No amount of pulling or prodding seemed to loosen his grip.

Seeing her discomfort, Draco let her go roughly, tensing his jaw to reel in his rage. "You didn't even have the decency to let me know we were crossing worlds?"

"Guess we're even now." She taunted, daring him to rebut her. In the blink of an eye, his disdainful expression turned blank. She could almost hear his Occlumency working. She narrowed her eyes. She didn't know the extent of his skills, but something told her he was above average at least.

"I hid the nature of the restaurant. You hid the fact that we were using a bloody portkey to-"

"Tomato, _tomahto_." Hermione waved a nonchalant hand in the air, twirling around to step away from the furious blonde. She moved out of the alley and onto the streets, not wanting to have to listen to him complain any further. 

In a strange mixture of anger and panic, Draco began to chase after her. "We're not done-"

As soon as he stepped out into the boulevard, he froze in shock at the hustle and bustle around him. People in odd clothing were shuffling about, holding weird devices to their ears, chattering endlessly. A loud honk startled him as he cover his ears, staring wide-eyed at the gigantic metal-like block rolling just a few feet away from him. He felt the ground shake as it passed by imposingly.

"What in the world-"

"Malfoy! Are you coming or not?"

Turning towards the mention of his name, he saw Granger standing impatiently a few paces away with her hands on her waist. He blinked, finally noticing what she was wearing.

It was a yellow dress that ended a few inches above her knee. The straps on her shoulders were so thin he could probably rip them off at the tug of a finger. Her feet were nearly bare wearing something that looked like nude strings, showing off her red toenails. Her usual bushy hair was in a high bun at the top of her head, loose curls escaping to frame the sides of her face.

He hummed to himself. He never realized she had nice legs. He blinked, shaking his head at the unnecessary thought. 

He had half a mind to ask her what the hell she was wearing, when he saw a few other women dressed in a similar fashion. Some were even more scantily clad than she was. He shook his head again. It seems Muggles were exhibitionists.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione began to walk away. "Keep up or I'll leave you behind."

Annoyed, Draco walked briskly towards her retreating form, finally falling into step with her. He needed a moment to simmer down the onslaught of negative emotions that were struggling to explode.

"If you don't give me an explanation right this second Granger, you won't like it."

Hermione glanced lazily at the spoiled pureblood who now stood right in front of her, a full foot taller. The vacant expression on his face failed to match his incensed tone. Occlumency once again, she noted.

"You said so yourself, didn't you? The aim is to make The Order believe that you no longer support the ideals you fought for in the war." She paused to raise a hand, motioning towards the entirety of their surroundings. "What better way to make them believe that than by having you spotted walking around muggle London?"

He released a long, controlled breath. "Elaborate."

"Like I said-"

"Move it!"

Draco glared incredulously at the random muggle who had the audacity to scream at him. "What did you-"

Hermione immediately got in between both men, muttering an apology. She kept a firm hold on Malfoy's forearm, prompting him to drop the argument. "We're standing in the middle of the sidewalk like we own it." She tried to pull him along. "Let's look for a different place to talk."

Draco glared at the man's back scornfully. How dare a muggle talk down on him?

"Malfoy." Came Hermione's demanding tone as she waited for him to finally start walking. "There's a park right across the street." She pointed at an area full of benches. "I'll explain there."

Draco said nothing as he pulled his arm out of her grasp. He walked away swiftly; his anger getting the better of him. But just as he fell into a comfortable pace, two hands were wrapped around the junction of his elbow, pulling him forcefully to a halt. He stumbled back a few steps.

"What the hell Granger?!"

"The light's green!"

Draco furrowed his eyebrows highly confused. Since when were they talking about lights or colors? He wanted to scream at her again, but the strange look of realization on her face made him pause. He watched her close her eyes.

"Traffic lights." Hermione sighed, pointing towards the rectangular boxes lodged a few feet off the ground. "It tells the cars when to move." She paused to point towards the rushing vehicles. "So when they move, you stop and wait. When the lights turn red, it means the cars stop, then you're free to cross the street."

"What kind of ridiculous system is that?!"

Hermione could feel several eyes on them from pedestrians who were also waiting to cross the street. She could only imagine how ridiculous they looked as she explained traffic rules to a grown man.

"It's how it works." She responded through gritted teeth, trying her best to quiet down her voice, hoping the Malfoy heir would get the hint.

"What a load of bollocks!"

"Malfoy!" Hermione hissed, shifting her eyes towards the crowd around them.

Opening his mouth to retort, Draco felt himself get pushed forward as the people started walking towards the other side of the street. "What the-"

"Light's red. Time to cross." Hermione rolled her eyes, opting to keep one hand on his arm to make sure he wouldn't do anything stupid. She wanted to laugh at how amusing it was to watch him navigate through the muggle world – eyes darting all over the place, confused and irritated. It looked like a scene out of a movie.

Draco eyed the sign that read 'St. James Park'. He was about to demand that she start talking, but the strange array of people within their vicinity shocked him.

A half-naked man was running though the cemented pathway, but no one bothered to tell him to wear a shirt. He saw a group of women in very tight clothing standing on thin colorful rectangular mats on the grass, doing strange provocative poses out in broad daylight. A group of children were holding balls of string attached to what he assumed were cloth-based… No. He squinted. Were they made of paper?

Hermione continued to watch him from the corner of her eye, doing her best to swallow down the laughter that was bubbling out of her throat. A culture shock Malfoy was definitely something she'd pay good money to see.

The sound of a throat clearing brought Draco's attention back to the petite woman before him. She still had her hand on his arm even as they slowed down their pace. He pulled himself out of her grasp, watching her still in place a few steps across from him.

"We're going to go around historical landmarks, and I'm going to act as your guide."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but he was met with a silencing hand. He bristled at the disrespectful gesture. She wasn't his mother or his governess for Merlin's sake!

"Before you decide to act all _prissy_ , I'll have you know that the likelihood of having a set of eyes on us during this tour is high."

Draco failed to hide his surprise at the unexpected development. "Who?" He watched her smirk arrogantly at him.

_"Now, where would all the fun be if you knew?"_

He narrowed his eyes at the petty way she threw his words back at him. "The type to hold a grudge, Granger?"

"A little bit." She shrugged before walking away.

Draco stared at her retreating back incredulously. Was she seriously just going to leave him wherever and whenever she felt like it?

"Where the hell are you going?"

Hermione glanced back at him nonchalantly, pointing a finger at herself. "Tour guide remember? Now let's get going. I'd like to finish before lunch."

Draco could only grumble to himself as he stalked after her, bottling the rest of his anger down. If her words were to be trusted, then it was unwise for them to have a row where people could see them. Merlin only knew who could be watching.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he palmed the flask tucked in his jacket's breast pocket, itching for a shot. He hated to admit it, but her plan made sense. No one would believe that he would venture out into the muggle world of his own volition. And if someone were to catch him here, with Hermione Granger nonetheless, the rumor mills would go crazy.

* * *

Hermione pretended to stare at the horizon, glancing at Malfoy through the corner of her eyes. They were at the last attraction, The London Eye. She expected him to throw a fit, panic, threaten to murder her, when she explained to him what they would do. She never thought he would be perfectly fine entering the compartment, despite it being more packed than usual because of the weekend.

She took note of the clothes he had worn once again – a dark green cashmere jumper with a V-neck that showed off a bit of his collar bones, grey slacks, camel Dragonhide boots, and a matching grey blazer folded across his forearm. He had his hands in his pockets, eyes busy taking in the view.

He'd been silent throughout the tour, only nodding his head as she talked, asking the occasional question. She could tell his Occlumency was in place. His face was an impassive mask, and his demeanor was cold but compliant.

They passed through the Big Ben, the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, The Tower Bridge, and the British Musuem. They even rode a taxi and a bus, but other than the rigid way he held himself inside the vehicles, he said nothing. She didn't know what she would have liked more, this silent version of him, or the one that never ceased to complain.

She sighed. At least the chatty version of him didn't have to make her guess what was going through his mind.

"Something you want to say?"

Hermione shifted her full attention towards Malfoy. His eyes were on her, still void of any emotion.

"You're oddly compliant."

He scoffed. "What other choice do I have?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes in annoyance at the accusatory tone. "You could have left at any moment."

"Let's see… Why didn't _I_ think of that?" Draco paused to pull a hand out of his pocket, stroking his chin in a gesture of contemplation. "Oh, that's right. I don't have a portkey."

Hermione felt her face grow hot at the sarcasm he threw her way. "You could have asked-"

"And you would have denied."

"What makes you so sure-" She paused, realizing her voice had risen throughout their exchange, earning a couple of glances over their way. She released a calming breath. "I would have obliged if you asked, Malfoy."

He shrugged as he placed his hand back in his pocket, eyes stuck to the expanse of the city once again. "Of course you would have."

She grit her teeth to stop herself from firing her own sarcastic remark. "This is the last destination. We're just going to head off to lunch and-"

"We can skip it. I'm not hungry."

She smirked. "Oh trust me. This is one you wouldn't want to miss. If you do, then all this would have been for naught."

That reeled his attention back in. "Explain."

"We'll be joined by two wonderful guests." Hermione began, turning her head to see that Malfoy had already been looking at her. "By 'joined' I mean, they have no idea we'll making an appearance, of course."

Draco lifted a brow in inquiry. "Are you finally going to let me in on who we're putting on a show for?"

"Remember how you said you wanted things between us to spread by 'word of mouth'?"

Draco nodded, his eyes glued on the warm pair glancing back at him. The sunlight made them look a bit more amber that they usually were. He blinked. "And?"

"And who do we know that is best at spreading gossip?"

Draco smirked at her as the realization hit him. The mask of indifference finally fell off his face.

"The twins."

She nodded. "The twins."

* * *

Hermione knew Malfoy was smart, but she never truly knew to what extent until this day. It took a lot for her not to gape at him both in awe and annoyance at how easily he remembered all the things she had rambled about earlier in the day. She wasn't even aware that he was listening! But now, he had created a monologue that made him sound like he was an enthusiastic tourist roaming around the heart of muddle London.

Tugging on her sleeve to relieve some annoyance, she had forgotten she'd been wearing Malfoy's grey blazer. It was at least two sizes bigger than her, making her look like a little kid in adult clothing. She wanted nothing more than to tear it off her, but remembered they needed to put on a show.

"Bloody fascinating!" He finished as he shook his head, a grin on his face as he sipped his tea.

Bloody fascinating her ass. Hermione had to hand it to him, the git was a good actor. He probably could live as one in the muggle world. She paused to study his features as he sipped his tea. His hair was much longer than it was back in school. It now reached the back of his neck, still swept back but softer. The long strands of his fringe fell across his face reaching his chin, while some were tucked under his ear. He had a clean face with aristocratic features, and a grace that matched.

She never really paid any notice before, and she hated to admit it now, but he was unfairly... _pretty._ Not that it made him any less of a bastard.

"Hermione?"

She blinked. "What?"

"Everything alright?"

Did he just call her by her name? Hermione cleared her throat as she absentmindedly began to stir her now stale tea. "Yes, sorry. Was distracted for a moment there." She watched him grin at her. The expression on his face was so open, so relaxed, so… un-Malfoy.

"Finally realizing how handsome I am?"

Nope. He was still Malfoy alright. She rolled her eyes. "Do you ever get tired of talking yourself up?" She could see him chuckling now, grey eyes sparkling in amusement.

"Not to you, Hermione. Not to you."

She felt an odd sensation at the pit of her stomach, prompting her to take a sip of her tea. She'd forgotten that the contract required them to refer to each other by their given names when in the presence of others.

Not one to back down, Hermione stared at him straight in the eye, matching the annoying grin on his face. "Whatever, Draco."

She sensed him pause for a moment, his smile falling slightly before he reached for his tea to take a sip as well.

Realizing that he was just as uncomfortable as she was at the sudden name change, she decided to shift the topic. "Are they still there?" She whispered.

"They've been gawking at us the moment they walked in. That was around ten minutes ago." Draco smirked, pretending to eye his half eaten scone, pushing at it with a knife. "Since then, they've been holding those tiny metal things that flip or slide open."

Hermione felt her entire body freeze. Grabbing her bag as calmly as she could, she fingered through its contents. She raised a folded titanium block to her side; a small monochrome screen on top showed the time.

"You mean like this?"

Draco nodded. "Yes. The one you used to hail one of those cars." He paused to recall what they were called. "Taxis." He added almost instantly, a small satisfied smile on his face. "You said it makes you call the company that sends those."

Hermione closed her eyes in dread. She didn't expected the Patil twins to be updated with muggle technology. "We need to leave. Now."

Draco tried his best to don an agreeable expression, inquiring surreptitiously with his eyes. He stood up pulling out the muggle currency from his pocket, glad that Granger had the presence of mind to hand him the money before they went in.

"Is this enough?"

Hermione glanced at the cash he left on the table and nodded, not bothering to explain that he had placed too much. They had bigger problems at hand. "That's fine." She forced a tight smile as she head towards the door.

Hermione felt a hand on the small of her back, guiding her gently towards the exit. She wanted to tell him to back off, but she knew the Patil twins had their phones up following their every move. She clenched her jaw, choosing to focus on getting out of the cafe as quickly as possible.

* * *

"Care to explain why we're in such a rush, Granger?" He turned his head towards her as they stalked through the streets briskly. Her silence annoyed him, but the tightness on her face told him he needed to follow her lead.

"I'll explain in a minute. We just need to make sure the twins aren't right behind us."

Draco nodded as they crossed the street, taking note to check the traffic lights this time. Hermione tried to suppress a grin, but he had seen her amusement. She felt him nudge his shoulder against her a little, causing her to stumble awkwardly.

"Very mature Malfoy." She rolled her eyes at the innocent look he sent her in response. 

After a couple more minutes of walking, they finally found an abandoned alley. Pulling out the portkey, Hermione grabbed Malfoy's arm and activated it without a word of warning.

Draco cursed at the pulling sensation as they landed back at the garbage site. "Fucking couldn't even give a signal, Granger?" He spat out as a hand massaged his temples, still lightheaded from the sudden movement.

Turning around, he watched her grumbling form, doubled over with both hands on her knees. He scowled, pacified that she was just as disoriented as he was.

"We need to talk." She groaned in discomfort. Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she gasp at the familiar feeling of apparition.

She fell on her knees; hands darting out to stop the rest of her body from crashing onto the floor. Turning her head towards the sound of a groan, she saw Malfoy sprawled a few paces from her. His back was against the sofa, his feet were stretched out, and his head was in his hands. It seems they were back in his temporary living arrangement.

"You stupid git! You could have splinched us!"

Draco had both his palms pressing against his eyes, not bothering to gratify her with a reply.

Standing up to move towards the nearest chair, Hermione could only groan in aggravation. 

A heavy silence filled the room as they both tried to collect their bearings.

"Explain."

Hermione turned her attention back to the slumped blonde still sitting on the floor right across from her. Other than the deep calming breaths he took, he made no further movements.

"Explain what?"

Raising his head off his hands, he glared back in annoyance. "Why the hell were we running from the Patil twins?"

Hermione felt the dread comeback ten-fold. She sighed as she pulled out her flip phone. "This is a cellphone. It's a form of muggle technology that is used for a myriad of things."

He groaned. "I'm not in the fucking mood for another one of your rambling lectures, Granger!"

Ignoring his outburst, she began to tap against the keys, angling the device towards him. 

Draco narrowed his eyes when he heard a soft click. "What the hell was that?"

Another click.

"Granger, I swear to Merlin if you don't explain things this instant, I'm going to shove that rectangular box down your throat." The clicking sound was all he got as a reply. 

Draco pushed himself off the floor in an instant, moving towards her to grab the phone in her hand. The strength of the gesture forced her to stand.

Just as their eyes met, Hermione turned the device around to show him what she had done.

Draco stared wide-eyed at his enraged figure on the tiny screen she held in her palm.

"This can take photographs. It's not as good as a camera, but clear enough to make out faces. It's basically like the ones you've seen during our muggle studies back in school." Hermione glared at him, annoyed by his strong-arming. "I assume you're smart enough to figure out the rest?"

Draco released her from his grasp, watching as the fingers of her other hand moved to cradle her wrist gently. He let out a breath, feeling a bit of his anger dissolve. He didn't expect the gesture would force her to her feet.

He swallowed down the strange compulsion to apologize, running a hand through his hair as he moved towards the liquor table. He uncorked a bottle of firewhiskey, tipping it over his mouth, not bothering to grab a glass.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the scene. Was he an alcoholic? She moved her hand towards the left breast pocket of his jacket she still wore, feeling the outline of what lay hidden underneath. She uncapped it during a bathroom break, and the strong scent that wafted through could only be one thing – firewhiskey.

"So they have concrete proof."

"Yes." She glanced at his back. He had one hand on the table, the other dangling on his side, holding onto the bottle of liquor. "But I don't think the photographs would turn out that well. They were quite a distance away." 

Draco took one more swig before corking the bottle, placing it back on the table. Turning around, he leaned back against it, folding his arms on his chest. "What do you suggest we do?"

"Well..." Hermione blinked in surprise, not expecting him to ask for her opinion. "There's nothing we _can_ do."

He nodded in agreement. "Let's expect those footages will be all over the news tomorrow." His eyes were fixed on her, gauging her reaction.

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes as she peeled off the blazer he loaned her, chucking it over to the couch unceremoniously. "Relax. I'm not going to freak out." She flopped down the chair closest to her.

"Oh?"

"I planned this, remember? Sure, I didn't expect that they knew of muggle technology, but it doesn't change the presumption that they would spread this rumor much faster than either of us can predict."

"The weekend news is the worst you know. Everyone has so much time to gossip." Draco stalked slowly towards the couch opposite the chair she lounged on. "Come Monday, this will be the talk of the town."

"Malfoy." Came her annoyed tone. "I'm not stupid. I get what's going to happen."

"As long as you understand." Draco sat down, crossing one leg over the other as he folded his arms. "The last thing I need is you hyperventilating, demanding we call off this whole thing. After all, you did put a clause in the contract-"

"I know Malfoy. I _amended_ the damn thing."

Draco sighed when he realized that they were headed towards another argument. He cleared his throat, deciding to shift the discussion entirely.

"So tell me... How exactly did you find out that the Patil twins would be in that restaurant, at that specific time, on this particular day?"

"I was shopping at the Apothecary earlier last week when I overheard Parvati and Susan Bones chatting about that restaurant and how delicious the scones were. She went on to talk about how she was bringing Padma along today at noon to try them."

"Earlier last week?" Draco began with amusement in his tone. "That was prior to our first date."

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes at the mention of their 'first date', but decided to ignore it all together. "Obviously." She blinked when she saw him gazing at her intently; his eyes searching hers. 

"We could have skipped that entire tour. We could have headed straight for the restaurant."

Hermione allowed herself to smirk. "Yes. We could have. But you have to admit, having you _gush_ over muggle London made the entire thing more believable."

"You could have just given me information to memorize." He challenged. "Why go through all that trouble? It was unnecessary."

 _"Oh but your expression was perfect. After all, genuine reactions are always better than fake ones."_ Hermione watched with silent fascination as his face hardened. After all, he wasn't the only one with an infallible memory. She watched his jaw clench tightly, restraining himself from rising to her bait.

Draco took a moment to rethink his response. It was annoying how skilled she was at using his words against him. It was as if she was always waiting for the perfect opportunity to piss him off. He sighed, letting go of his initial irritation, allowing himself to chuckle a little.

"I have to admit, I'm touched. No one has ever put that much effort for me on a date." Came his patronizing tone.

Ignoring his sarcasm, Hermione replied with a saccharine smile. "So how was your first experience in the world of lowly muggles, your _highness?"_

Draco raised an eyebrow at the none-too-subtle jab. "I definitely could have used better company."

Hermione blinked. Once. Twice. Did he just make a joke? Him. Draco Malfoy. Pureblood elitist. Hater of anything and everything muggle-related. Lightly commenting on his trip to the muggle world?

"So you wouldn't have minded as much if you had gone with someone else?" She challenged, her tone a tad bit incredulous.

Realizing his slip, Draco chose to shrug in reply. He could feel her eyes boring into his as he cleared his throat and motioned towards the floo. "If there's nothing more we need to discuss…"

Hermione took a deep breath, eying him one last time. She could tell she would get nothing more out of him. Disappointed, she headed for the heap of green powder stowed by the side of the fireplace.

She wanted him to answer her question. She wanted to ask him to clarify what he meant. But a part of her wasn't sure she was ready to have this conversation with him. There was no point in trying to test whether his ideals and beliefs have shifted, but she'd be damned if she wasn't curious.

Draco kept his gaze away from her, ignoring the small nod of goodbye he saw her send his way from the corner of his eye. As she disappeared into the green flames, a foreign sense of discomfort lodged itself into the pit of his stomach.

What in the world came over him?

* * *

"Explain this!"

Theo jumped at the feeling of something slap against his chest. He glanced down at the crumpled copy of the Prophet pressed against his torso, clearly mishandled. He sighed.

"Why hello, Theo! So nice of you to come as soon as you got that _howler_ I sent you first thing in the morning! Would you care for some breakfast? Or perhaps some tea and biscuits?" He paused, raising a mocking eye brow. "It's common courtesy, Pansy. Though I should have known by now not to expect that from someone like you."

"I'm not in the mood, Theo!" Pansy released her hold on the paper to fold her arms across her chest.

Theo scrambled to catch the slipping sheets much to his dismay. "Neither am I. I woke up to the sound of your voice, for crying out loud! A letter would have-"

"Draco and Granger." Pansy cut him off through gritted teeth, pointing towards the photo on the page the Nott heir clipped under his elbow.

Stacking the sheets of paper as neatly as he could, Theo placed the photo on the top of the pile. He eyed its frozen quality with interest. It was undoubtedly taken by a muggle device. It had a grainy quality to it, and the details were a tad bit blurry, but that shade of blonde hair and those distinctive grey eyes could only belong to one man. He scanned the rest of the article offhandedly.

"Are you sure it's them?" He heard her scoff at his question. "This does look like Draco, but he's never been to the muggle world so-"

"That's him! There's no mistaking it!"

"Then how are you so sure that this one's Granger? All I can see is the back of the woman's head."

"She can glamour that bush all she wants, but I _know_. Call it intuition, Theo, but I'm sure I'm right. Besides, I ran into Millie the other day and she told me Astoria had seen them with her own eyes." She paused to emphasize her point. "Having _dinner_. Now you better start talking-"

"Why Pans! I had no idea you and Bullstrode-"

Pansy clicked her tongue. She really didn't have the patience to deal with his theatrics at the moment. "Start. Talking." She watched him pause to eye her appraisingly.

She knew he knew something. As much as she hated to admit it, the Nott heir was the only person Draco treated as an equal back at Hogwarts. They may have been in the same circle, but Draco would choose to surround himself with henchmen, while Theo preferred isolation as the better company. But in the few times she's seen them interact, there had been something akin to fondness she's never seen Draco express towards anyone else.

Pansy took a step towards him, shoving a finger roughly on his chest. "I have the right to know!"

Theo couldn't stop the amused snort that left his nose. "On what grounds?"

Pansy fumed, torn between turning away in embarrassment and shaking him into submission. The look he gave her only angered her more. "I'm not letting you leave until you tell me everything!"

Theo sighed, moving to flop down onto the pearl-colored leather couch. "Why don't you just ask Draco?"

She looked at him like he just grew a pair of horns and veela wings. 

"Or Blaise. Maybe _he_ knows something."

"He hasn't replied to my owl yet!" Pansy stomped her way to the end of the couch, sitting by the Nott heir's crossed feet, slamming a fisted hand on one of his shins.

Theo yelped, folding his injured leg up to massage the pain away. "That hurt!" He swiped his good leg against her backside, causing her to fall off the couch and onto the floor ungracefully.

"You little shit!"

Theo bolted up, crossing his legs underneath him to steady himself. "You started it!"

Pansy shrieked loudly in frustration, pushing her back against the couch, slamming her fisted hands against the tiled floor.

Theo rolled his eyes at the dramatic scene before him, moving back to lean against the armrest. "I thought you said you were over Draco?"

"I am!"

He glanced incredulously at the resolute expression she sent back at him. "Then what the hell is this…" He paused to gesture a hand at the entirety of her figure. "…All about?"

Pansy turned around to slap her palm against the couch. "Just because I'm over him, doesn't mean I don't care!"

"And how is this…" He paused again, gesturing both palms out towards her. "Caring?"

"She doesn't deserve him!"

Theo scrunched his eyebrows, getting an idea of where the conversation was headed. "Why?"

She gave him a knowing look. "You _know_ why."

" _No_ , I don't." He challenged.

"I have nothing against Muggles, but-"

"And _that_ is how every racist and discriminatory statement begins." He cut her off.

"Draco has the responsibility to uphold _two_ pureblooded lines. Two. The Malfoys and the Blacks. If he marries a muggle, those two families would _never_ be pure again. He would singlehandedly end what his ancestry's worked so hard to preserve all these years!"

"Would that really be so bad?"

"What?" Pansy's voice was barely above a whisper, unsure of why the Nott heir seemed to be taking light of the entire situation. She watched him get off the couch silently; his gaze on her was unreadable and unsettling.

"If there's one thing the war's taught me, Pansy, it's that blood is all the same."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to point out that based on the timeline of this story (a little over two years after the second war ended, which means it would be the year 2000), camera phones started being manufactured. As for the accuracy in terms of months, I let it slide under the guise of creative freedom! :p
> 
> With that said, thank you for reading! Reviews and constructive criticism are highly appreciated :)


	9. Paparazzi

"I think it's about time we've made a public appearance."

"Come again?" Hermione blinked at the unexpected statement. The hand cradling her tea paused just a few inches from her lips. Ever since those photographs began circulating three weeks ago, they've done nothing but deny the issue. They even went as far as agreeing to forego their scheduled weekly date, as well as avoid any unnecessary outdoor errands. She even opted to have all her groceries delivered because of the shear amount of press hounding her the moment she stepped out of her house. Work at the hospital took her mind off things, but after clocking out, she was hauled back to the world of gossip and intrigue.

"The enthusiasm from the press is dwindling. I think now would be the perfect time to stage something else to get them talking."

Hermione raised a brow at his statement. She was still sure she spotted a head or two with a camera loitering outside her apartment just last night, but it was a welcome change from the initial five to ten reporters. "I thought you said no public appearances?"

"Not in the way you think."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. The smirk Malfoy sent her way made her feel suspicious. "What do you have in mind?"

"A series of accidental run ins throughout the span of the next three to four weeks." Draco eyed the contemplative look she gave him.

"And what exactly would those achieve?"

"Confusion." He answered, as if that one word explained the entirety of his plan. The incredulous look on her face gave him a strange sense of satisfaction. "The photos proved that _I_ was in the muggle world, which, unsurprisingly, gained positive responses from the masses. But they don't exactly verify that it was _you_ I was with, even if those 'confidential sources' claim you were." He snorted, surprised that the Patil twins had enough self-preservation skills to not let Skeeter drop their name into the article. "So how do you suppose people will react, if say, we ran into each other at the apothecary acting completely nonchalant and detached from one another?"

Hermione tilted her head to one side, tucking her hair behind one ear, deciphering what angle Malfoy wanted to work with given this idea of his. "So, you want us to act like we're merely acquaintances?"

"Yes."

"And that would result to what exactly?"

Draco allowed himself to chuckle at her lack of imagination. "Dialog."

"About?" She pushed on, still obviously unacquainted with what he was trying to point out.

Draco sighed. Her knowledge of the social world was very unbecoming for someone who was supposedly the brightest witch of her age. "What year was Hogwarts founded?"

"990 A.D." Hermione answered instantaneously; glaring at Malfoy as if he'd grown another head. "What does that have to do with-"

"What if, one day, they suddenly publish an article saying that it was actually a year later instead?" Draco watched the scandalized look on her face with unbridled amusement.

"What? That's impossible! All records concretely point to 990 A.D.! They'd have to present their sources, as well as create strong counterarguments against all the writings that came before it. They'd have to-"

"Which brings me back to my point." Draco paused, sending her a superior look. "Dialog." He watched her narrow her eyes at him, still entertained by the prickly expression on her face. "The obscene amount of articles published about us over the last couple of weeks have been pushing the public to believe that we are, in fact, in some sort of 'secret relationship'. So imagine their surprise when all of a sudden, we both prove that we aren't."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. He wasn't making any sense. "If we prove that we aren't, wouldn't that be counterintuitive to your goal?"

"No. Because by then, their curiosity would spike. _Why aren't we involved?_ After St. Mungos, after the supposed date Astoria caught us in, after I went as far as go all the way to the muggle world where the Patil twins stole photographs of us. Why would we deny it this whole time? Why would we be caught in public acting like we couldn't give a damn about each other?"

Hermione was beginning to understand the point of the entire conversation. Operating on the assumption that they shouldn't be together, the only option for a relationship like theirs would be one shrouded in secrecy. Their incessant denial would only incriminate them further. Their lies would serve as clues towards the entire truth, especially to people like Astoria, the Patil twins, and Skeeter, who actually had solid proof.

"And then what?"

"And then we continue with our scheduled weekly dates." Draco shrugged. "Though we'd have to be a bit more strategic with who we plan on revealing ourselves to."

Hermione hummed softly, looking down at the grey and white fur carpet she had gotten used to staring at over the past few weeks. She had to admit it was a good plan. It fell in line with who they were as individuals, the same way it coincided with the situation their lives were both in at the moment.

"I take it you've already drawn out a plan for this?"

"I made a compilation of places I usually visit."

Hermione reached for the paper he offered her, eying the names of shops in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade that he frequented.

"Take note of what we have in common. We need to _accidentally_ run into each other at places we're already regulars at. That way it wouldn't be suspicious."

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes as she scanned the list that was nearly two columns long. Most of them were members only, and required an exorbitant amount of money to even be considered patrons. She sighed. "Flourish and Blotts. The Apothecary. Honeydukes. Scrivenshaft's." She called out one by one, before dropping the paper onto the glass coffee table. "That's pretty much all we have in common."

Draco nodded, secretly glad they at least had four shops to work with. "Do you visit them routinely?"

"I head to Flourish and Blotts sometimes after work just to browse." She paused, recalling the potions in the medicine closet she had at her study back home. "For the Apothecary, I usually place in an order a few days before, then pick it up on the weekend when I have more time. It should be easy to stage a run in at either of those stores."

Draco nodded. "I head to the Apothecary once to twice a week, usually on weekdays. But it shouldn't be that odd for me to drop by on a weekend." He paused when he saw her throw him a small look of surprise. "What?"

"You don't have them delivered to your manor?"

Draco rolled his eyes at her presumption. "I prefer to pick out my ingredients in person. You of all people should know how much the quality of each material affects the overall potency of the potion."

Hermione said nothing, recalling a memory she had of him back at Hogwarts. The only time she ever saw him exhibit a strange, quiet sort of satisfaction, was when he was at Potions. She remembered it clearly because it unnerved her that he was capable of such an expression. "Why do you go to the Apothecary so often?" She watched him eye her skeptically.

"Why so many questions, Granger?"

"I was just curious." She shrugged. His defensive demeanor made her interest grow even more. He was an unemployed adult with a trust fund that basically had him, and the next few generations of his family, set for life. What did he need all those ingredients for?

"Fine. If you must know, I personally make all the potions utilized in the manor."

His response surprised her a bit. She wondered just how extensive his supply storage was. Did he stick to basic first aid? Or did he go as far as brewing potions used to counteract poisons and dark curses? How about ones used by magical creatures like Wolfsbane? Or the ones that were basically used for interrogation like Veritaserum? Did he have useless ones like Amortentia? Or more complex ones like Felix Felicis and Polyjuice? But before she could ask any further, Malfoy redirected the conversation back on track.

"How about Honeydukes and Scrivenshaft's?"

"I go to Honeydukes twice a month to replenish my candy stash at work, and once a month at Scrivenshaft's to get my printed prescription pads. I just went to Honeydukes last week so I'm not due for another visit anytime soon, but I'm scheduled to head to Scrivenshaft's next weekend."

Draco nodded, taking a moment to digest all the information. "Where do you think would be the best place to start?"

Hermione paused to think about her schedule for the following week. "I'm actually supposed to head to the Apothecary this Sunday to pick up a set of potions I ordered."

"Perfect." Draco looked pleased. He hadn't dropped by the Apothecary this week because of the riot the press caused the previous time he had gone out for an errand. "What time?"

"10 in the morning."

"I'll be there by 9:30. You said something about Scrivenshaft's next weekend?"

"Ah, right. My pads. I'm scheduled to pick them up next Saturday at one in the afternoon."

Draco folded his arms across his chest. What could he possibly use as an excuse to drop by the stationary store? He was definitely not out of paper or quills. "I can have a few of the Malfoy wax seals restored. I can purchase some wax as well while I'm at it."

"Okay. I can head to Flourish and Blotts that following Friday since my shift ends by five in the afternoon."

Draco looked pensive for a moment, before he nodded his agreement. "I can drop by around 5:30. Then maybe we can meet the following week at Honeydukes?"

Hermione nodded. It seemed like a solid three-week plan.

"Now for the script."

Hermione blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"The script." Draco reiterated, as if it was more than enough of an explanation. "We can't just bump into each other and wing it. We don't exactly have the best chemistry." He snorted. "We need to plan the discourse."

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes, but she knew he had a point. Without a premade conversation, they would probably only end up arguing in public. She sighed.

"So this is what I had in mind."

* * *

Draco rounded a corner in search for the longtime shopkeeper. "Do you happen to have any new stock of unicorn horns, Henry? I don't see them by the-" His grey eyes met familiar brown ones. He saw her head in several minutes ago, and gave her enough time to head to the counter to chat with the old man before he revealed himself. He could tell she was a bit uncomfortable, but that in itself was to their advantage.

"Granger." He nodded. He could practically feel all pairs of eyes on them. The Apothecary was more packed than usual.

"Malfoy." She nodded back.

Draco knew that they would be the center of attention at some point during their exchange, but he never imagined it would be this intense. People literally stopped shopping just to stare at them, waiting for their next move. He cleared his throat, glancing back at Henry. "The unicorn horns?"

"Ah yes, uh…" The shopkeeper paused to look at Hermione for a second.

"It's alright Henry, I can wait."

Draco glanced at both of them momentarily, before he turned his attention back to sheepish old man. "I'll come back after a few minutes." With that, he took his leave. He felt the apothecary spring back to life as people began to scurry back to their errands. He wanted to roll his eyes at their lack of subtlety.

He watched her take her pre-ordered potions from the corner of his eye, before heading out the store. He could practically feel the buzz of the people in the room. He fought back a smirk.

* * *

"So I told that guy that he- Oh! Mr. Malfoy!"

Hermione felt herself stiffen in surprise at the loud acknowledgement the middle-age woman shot out. "It's so nice to see you!" Hermione could feel the receptionist's gaze shift between her and Malfoy, a knowing smile on her face. "It's been awhile!"

"Unfortunately, Charlotte, it _hasn't_ been long enough. I need these refurbished." Hermione heard him say with a flat tone as he passed a black velvet bag across the counter, pretending not to notice she was there. She heard the woman giggle at his obvious jab, swiping her hand up in the air. "Oh Mr. Malfoy, always the joker!"

Hermione scoffed on cue. How on earth Malfoy could have predicted the woman's response to any of his sarcastic retorts was beyond her; but it seems they've known each other for quite some time now. She noticed him turn to look at her from the corner of her eye, looking genuinely surprised. The damn git was an annoyingly talented actor.

"Why, if it isn't Hermione Granger."

He was just supposed to say her last name. She wanted to glare at him and tell him to stick to the damn script, but she could tell all eyes were on them. "Malfoy." She replied, not bothering to spare him a glance, keeping her attention on the stationary handbook she had been perusing since the moment she entered the shop. Charlotte was a chatterbox and would always end up telling her some story about some customer, or some person she met at a bar, and so on. It had been a well-established part of her routine to check out the shop's free catalogs until the older woman finally ceased her incessant gossiping.

"Something you want to say?" He challenged.

"I beg your pardon?" She raised a brow in retaliation, throwing him a sideward glance.

"Charlotte's comment about me seemed to have amused you."

Hermione scoffed again on cue. "I was amused by a design on this catalog." She paused to raise the booklet for emphasis. "Not everything is about you, Malfoy."

She could hear the people around them begin to whisper at the scene. Even Charlotte was silent for once, gazing intently at the two of them in excitement.

"Is that so?" He drawled as he leaned his forearm against the counter, angling his body to face hers. "Care to share what's gotten you so entertained?"

"There are several of these for free by the side of the counter." Hermione responded indifferently; her eyes once again glued to the pages, scanning idly. "I'm sure Charlotte will be more than happy to assist you." Her gaze on the older woman seemed to have woken her up from her silence.

"Oh-uh, yes of course, Mr. Malfoy!" She moved to grab one of the booklets, offering it to him instantly. "We have new stationary designs that just came out this week!"

Draco raised a hand to stop her. "I'm sure _Hermione_ wouldn't mind sharing hers with me." He paused to throw a lopsided grin in her direction. "After all, aren't we dating, love?"

The earlier whispers had grown into full blown chatter by now. The use of her name shouldn't have been a part of that line, nor was that term of endearment. For once, Hermione was thankful for his ability to act like a complete asshole, making it unnecessary for her to fake disdain towards him. "Excuse me?" The strict tone of her voice cut through the growing noise, silencing everyone almost instantly.

"Why, that's all I've been hearing for the past couple of weeks or so!" Draco shrugged, smirking at her in a way that made her want to slap him.

"Then I suggest you take a hearing test, or better yet, a cognitive test. Something seems wrong with your brain." She watched him chuckle at her response.

Ignoring him, Hermione turned her attention back to the middle-aged receptionist who looked like she had just won the lottery. "Charlotte, my prescription pads?" The irate tone of her voice sprung the woman into action.

"Oh! Of course, Ms. Granger! Right here." She hurriedly stuffed the pads into a parcel, before sliding them across the counter. She tapped it once awkwardly, grinning at Hermione, unsure of what else to say.

"Thank you." She nodded at the beaming woman, ignoring the look Malfoy was giving her as she turned to leave.

"What? No goodbye kiss?" She heard him tease just as she neared the exit. She knew that had been a part of the script, and she knew all she had to do was walk away wordlessly. But this was Malfoy, and a part of her really didn't want him to have the last word. If he was willing to go off script, then so was she.

She turned around slowly, pausing by the door of Scrivenshaft's to send him one final glare. "Go fuck yourself, Malfoy." The unmitigated look of surprise on his face, and the way his lips parted made her feel so good about herself.

* * *

"We seriously have to stop meeting like this!"

Hermione's hand paused in midair as she reached for a book on the top shelf. She sighed, dropping her arm back down to glare at Malfoy leaning against the corner of the bookshelf. The previous stint they pulled at Scrivenshaft's had been on the front page of Skeeter's tabloid. They only ever owled in between their planned run ins, but to say that they were both miffed at each other for deviating from the script was an understatement. This time, they agreed to follow their lines down to the letter.

"What now, Malfoy?" Came her aggravated tone.

"Now is that anyway to greet your _lover_?"

It was a slow Friday afternoon for Flourish and Blott's, but she could tell that the patrons in the bookstore now had their attention on them. She clicked her tongue. Did Malfoy have to speak with such an infuriatingly loud tone? She walked away not bothering to gratify him with a response, just as they had planned.

She started perusing the shelves in a different section of the bookstore in silence. She could see Malfoy follow her from the corner of her eye, stopping by the edge of the rack and leaning against it nonchalantly.

"Why am I not surprised that you're _still_ a bookworm?" He teased. She ignored him. It was a line they argued over for quite some time when they drafted the script. In the end, it was the best choice over the other insults they thought he could throw at her. She could feel several people starting to hover around the area where they stood, probably hoping to eavesdrop on their conversation. "Never change, Granger. Never change." He added with amusement in his tone.

She sighed, looking at him tiredly. "Don't you have anything better to do, Malfoy?"

He shrugged, walking up to where she stood to glance at the section of books she'd been eyeing. He crouched down a bit to get a better look. His sudden closeness made her take a step back. "What?"

"None of these are familiar."

Hermione raised a brow at the slightly aggravated expression on his face at not knowing a thing about an entire section of books. She rolled her eyes. He was going off script again, but this time, she was glad he was. She didn't initially plan this, but now that they were here, she was interested to see how he would respond. "That's because they're muggle." She saw him stiffen slightly, but it was gone as quickly it appeared.

"I see."

Hermione expected him to throw her a subtle derogatory remark, or a minor sarcastic response that would be enough to piss her off, but not quite enrage her. So the silent way he was perusing the titles was an odd sight. The plan was to have her recommend a book to him about potions. But since they were already here, perhaps she could change that part of the script? She swallowed. Would she dare? 

"Ah, this I know." Draco pulled a book out of the shelf, flipping through it nonchalantly.

Hermione failed to hide the surprise on her face as she watched him scan through a copy of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. "You _know_ this book?" She asked incredulously.

"Theo wouldn't shut up about it. Said something about watching a play, and how tragic the entire story had been." Draco pushed the book back onto the shelf carelessly. "If anything, I think it was stupid."

Hermione was incredibly curious about how Theodore Nott, of all people, managed to know about Shakespeare, let alone watch a play about Romeo and Juliet; but the urge to reshelf the book back to where it should have been took precedence. She was annoyed that Malfoy didn't have an ounce of courtesy in him.

"Faking one's death, then dying together? All for the sake of love?" He snorted. It was a load of bollocks alright. "Don't tell me you actually like these kinds of stories?"

"Not all of them talk about tragic love affairs and teenage hormones, Malfoy." She rolled her eyes. "Besides, I don't particularly like Romeo and Juliet."

"What do you prefer then?"

The question caught her off guard. Was he seriously doing this? Was he going to deviate from the script, and instead, have her recommend a muggle book for him? She could see that question surprised him too. He hid it well, but the slight panic in his eyes said it all. He probably saw it as an opportunity to proceed with the plan, but when he realized the implications of his actions, it had been too late.

Hermione scanned the bookshelf quickly, figuring out what to pick before he could change his mind. It would be his first legitimate exposure to muggle literature. It needed to be something that could personally impact him; something he'd be able to relate to. Something-

Hermione felt her heart skip a beat when her eyes landed on a title that told her it had to be it. Grabbing it off the shelf, she handed it to him with determination.

Draco looked at her skeptically, surprised by the intense way she was staring at him. "Pride and Prejudice?" He plucked it off her grasp, flipping the book to eye the summary on its back cover.

Hermione watched him raise an eyebrow at her, amusement dancing in his eyes. _"It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of great fortune, must be in want of a wife."_ He chuckled. "Is this a proposal, Granger?"

Hermione said nothing, opting to shrug instead. She saw him glance at the book once again, before dropping the hand that held it to his side. She rolled her eyes. "You can put it back if you don't want it."

"No. I think I'll take this."

Hermione failed to hide her surprise once again. She blinked at the resolute expression on his face. They were back on script this time around. "Do what you want." With that final statement, Hermione walked out of the shop. Whether he bought it or not, she was unsure.

* * *

"Oh, Mr. Malfoy!" Mr. Flume greeted as he tipped his hat, raising a finger in the air as he scurried out of the counter, gesturing for the younger man to wait.

Hermione eyed Mrs. Flume's sudden jovial disposition as she stood by the counter, calculating the purchase she had just made. For some reason, the mention of his name made people pause from their business to glance at them by the counter.

The entertainment section of the news for the past couple of weeks had been filled with nothing but the two of them. Ginny was relentless at hounding her about what the deal was between them. She was honestly running out of lies to tell her.

A few days ago, she finally allowed herself to reply to one of Harry's owls her for the first time in months. He was asking if they could meet this Sunday for brunch. She agreed, but she wasn't entirely sure she was ready to face him. Not after everything that's happened.

Hermione sighed. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, but she couldn't even enjoy an ounce of peace. It was tiring having to keep up with all the gossip circulating about her and Malfoy. She barely even had time to sleep with all the work and research she'd been doing. And the latter hadn't been as fruitful as she hoped.

"Good morning Mrs. Flume." Came the bored drawl Hermione had gotten quite used to.

"Here for your mother's candies again, I presume? We got her letter a couple of days ago."

"Yes, I-"

Hermione eyed him from the periphery of her vision, watching him do a double take when he finally realized who it was he was standing next to. She wanted to roll her eyes at how natural he made the entire thing seem.

"I _seriously_ have to ask, Granger." His tone was half amused, half incredulous. "Are you stalking me?"

Hermione scoffed at the teasing tone of his voice. "I was here first."

"Ah…" Draco nodded exaggeratedly. He casually leaned on the counter, scanning the package Mrs. Flume busied herself with. "Acid pops, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Toffee, Chocolate frogs, Jelly slugs…" He snickered. "I never pegged you as the type who enjoyed a nasty sugar rush."

"They're not for me." She deadpanned.

"Then why are you buying them?"

"For my office. And for younger patients." She replied curtly. "Not that it's any of your business." She added.

"Here you go Mr. Malfoy."

Mr. Flume came back from the storage, holding a huge packet of sweets Hermione's never seen before. They were green and white, small, cylindrical candies that looked hard and crunchy. "What are those?" She couldn't help but ask. She watched the older man pack them into a bag before handing them over to Malfoy.

"Custom made apple-flavored nougats for Mrs. Malfoy." Mr. Flume answered proudly. "The Missis has been procuring this for nearly two decades now!"

She sighed. Why wasn't she surprised about the fact that the Malfoys could get Honeydukes to make them custom made sweets that weren't available to the public?

"That'll be five sickles and 17 nuts, Ms. Granger."

Hermione was just about to bring out her purse when Malfoy slid two galleons on the counter. He tilted his head towards the bag Mrs. Flume was just about to hand her. "This should be more than enough to cover everything."

The old couple blinked at the unexpected gesture, before glancing at each other slyly. "Why of course, Mr. Malfoy!" Mrs. Flume grinned. It seems there was a certain level of truth to the rumors.

"Keep the change." He added, before throwing a nonchalant look over to Hermione. "In exchange for your book recommendation." He explained.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You don't have to, Malfoy. I can pay for myself." She insisted, moving to open her purse just like they planned. All he had to do next was walk out wordlessly.

Draco eyed her fiddling with the coins in her purse. A slow smirk graced his features. " _It is sometimes a disadvantage to be so very guarded. If a woman conceals her affection with the same skill from the object of it, she may lose the opportunity of fixing him._ " 

Hermione blinked. Were her ears deceiving her, or did he just quote a line from Jane Austen? She gaped at his retreating back, utterly speechless. The fact that he had the audacity to accuse her of harboring any kind of affection towards him had been lost to her.

* * *

"I just wanted-"

"So what is this-"

Harry and Hermione paused simultaneously at the awkwardness around both of them.

"Go on." Harry insisted, pushing a palm up towards her direction.

"It's fine, you can go first." Hermione argued, shaking her head resolutely.

Harry sighed at how strangely uncomfortable they both were. "It's been a while, huh?" He rubbed his palms against his jeans, eying her new apartment casually. It was his first time here. She didn't even let him help her move after the fallout. "Thanks for finally agreeing to meet me."

Hermione nodded. It's been nearly four months since they last talked. "What did you want to tell me?"

Harry took a deep breath, braising himself. He took out a piece of paper, smoothing it open against the coffee table, moving his cup of tea out of the way to make more space. "You know how I'm not good at expressing myself and organizing my thoughts, right? So I figured I should write them down instead."

Hermione eyed him wordlessly, watching him push his glasses up his nose, knees bouncing up and down restlessly.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking over the past few months. And I realized I haven't been fair to you. Not at all." He began. His eyes stayed on the paper, not once glancing up to look at her. "I understood Ron's side better because I saw how broken he'd been, how confused he was, and how much he wanted to fix things. He opened up to me a lot about the two of you, and back then… it was… it was difficult to talk to you. " He paused to take a breath, still unable to look her in the eye.

Hermione felt the urge to argue. She wanted to tell him that wasn't true. She wanted to tell him that she would have listened to whatever it was he wanted to tell her. But she knew he was right. When he tried to make her understand Ron's side, she had labeled it as outright betrayal, and stopped talking to him altogether. How could he take his side? Why should she try to understand Ron? She was the victim here. He was the one who cheated. But now, after some time had passed, she understood that most of what Harry had done had been because they were _both_ his friends.

"I really want you to know that I didn't condone the fact that he cheated. It was a horrid thing to do and nothing can ever excuse his behavior." Harry looked at her intently, hoping she would believe him. "Hermione... I'm sorry I didn't try harder to understand your side of things. It's just that… What Ron was going through at that time, I was going through it too."

Everything seemed to make more sense to Hermione now. "You and Ginny broke up." She concluded. The silent nod she got from him as a reply felt final. There was no more going back. No more second chances.

"When I started looking at my life, and I mean _really_ look at it, I realized I didn't know who I was." Harry continued, his eyes still on the paper full of his handwriting. "For once, I want to find out for myself. I wanted to be away from it all for a moment. I thought being on my own, without Gin, would have been enough. But somehow, it just isn't."

Harry paused to pushed the rim of his glasses further up the bridge of his nose once again, a habit he did whenever he was nervous. "I filed a leave of absence for the next two months. It seems I've had that many accumulated." He allowed himself an empty chuckle. "I'll be staying in the muggle world for a while to try and figure things out alone. But before I do that, I want to fix things between us." He paused, finally allowing himself to glance at Hermione momentarily. "You are one of the most important people in my life." His green eyes were back on her. This time, they were unmoving and shiny with unshed tears. "Please forgive me, Hermione. I know words will never be enough, but please believe me when I say I'll do anything to get another shot at being your friend."

Hermione felt her heart ache at the sincerity of his gaze.

"I'm sorry Hermione. I really am." Harry was on his knees now, cradling both of her hands in his own. "I was selfish and stupid, and… and I projected a lot of my insecurities into the issues you and Ron were dealing with. I was only thinking of myself, and I hurt you."

Hermione could only nod, not trusting herself to speak. She felt him wipe the small tears spilling from the corner of her eyes, before he enveloped her in a tight hug. She was so tired of being angry. So done with feeling disappointed, hurt and betrayed. She never realized how much she wanted an apology from him, even if a part of her knew now that she hadn't made it easy for him either. She just… she missed this. She missed Harry, more than she realized.

As they pulled out of the hug, Hermione watched him grin sheepishly at her.

"So, are we friends again?"

Hitting him squarely on the shoulder, she clicked her tongue. The gaze she sent him was a mixture of annoyance and fondness.

Rubbing the soreness out of the perfectly aimed jab, Harry winced. "Please tell me that's a yes?" The nod he got from her made him sigh, letting himself fall backwards onto the floor. It's been a while since he felt this light.

"What are you doing?" Hermione chuckled, as she watched him stretch out, uncaring of the fact that he was wiping the dirt off her floor with his clothes.

"I feel like I can breathe again." He whispered with his eyes closed.

"Me too." She allowed herself to smile. "So… you're really leaving?"

"Yeah."

"Where to?"

Harry sat back up, grinning widely. "Paris."

Hermione chuckled at his enthusiasm. It had always been a goal of his to roam around Paris at one point in his life. "I see. What's the plan?"

"That's the best part." Harry paused, stretching his arms out to the sides in abandon as he shook his head. "There is no plan."

She snorted at his answer. Staying in Paris for two months without a goal seemed like a nightmare to her, but for Harry who's lived his entire life planned out, it was definitely a welcome change. "I'll be here when you need me."

Harry was caught off guard by how easily she uttered that sentence, as if it was a universal truth that could not be questioned. He clenched his jaw, holding back his tears. "Thanks Hermione. You have no idea how much that means to me." He moved off the floor to trap her in another hug.

Hermione laughed as they fell backwards onto the couch. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been hugged this tightly. It was nice.

"So… I guess since we're back to being friends again, I can ask about the elephant in the room."

Hermione turned her head to glance at the serious expression Harry had on his face. They were close enough for her to be able to count the wrinkles on his forehead. She wanted to laugh at the premature aging the war had caused all of them. "What?"

"You and Malfoy."

Hermione failed to hide the surprise on her face. Rolling her eyes, she pushed herself out of the hug to sit up on the couch. He followed short after.

"There's nothing going on with me and Malfoy."

"That's not what the news say."

She raised a brow at him. "Who are you going to believe, me or Skeeter?"

"You, of course!" Harry answered instantly. "But the pictures…" He paused, gauging her reaction to his accusation. "They were you weren't they?" They may not have been on speaking terms for the last few months, but he could still easily tell her apart from every other woman in a crowded area.

"We just run into each other a lot." She shrugged.

It was Harry's turn to raise a brow at her. "In _muggle_ London?"

The sincere look he was giving her was making her uncomfortable. It was always difficult to lie to Harry. He just had a way of looking at her that made her feel safe. For a second, she was just about ready to confess, but the sudden blockage in her voice reminded her of the nondisclosure agreement.

"So it _was_ you back there with Malfoy." Harry concluded. Hermione had never been a good liar, but he could tell there was something she wasn't comfortable enough to divulge to him. "Is he threatening you?"

She eyed him incredulously. "Do you think I would allow him to?"

He stroked his chin in contemplation. "Blackmail?" He watched her roll her eyes in disbelief.

"What dirt could he possibly have on me?"

"Bribery, then?"

Hermione scoffed to hide her discomfort. "As if I would ever be blinded by his money."

Harry laughed out loud. "As if, right?"

Hermione shook her head, folding her arms against her chest defensively. It was a good thing he hadn't been looking at her intently. He would have immediately called her bluff otherwise.

"So you're not involved with him?"

"We just run into each other, that's all." She insisted.

Harry sighed. "Look, I'm not going to force you to tell me anything. I'm not here to lecture you, and I promise I'll try my best not to judge, alright? I just want to let you know that I trust you." He paused to grab her hand in his, intertwining their fingers in the process. "I just don't trust Malfoy. But I'd like to believe that you are a very good judge of character, so I'll have faith in whatever you decide." He took her other hand in his, moving to cradle both of them in his palms, squeezing them reassuringly. "No matter what, I'll always be here, okay? I won't let you down again. This time, I'm on your side. Now and forever."

Hermione felt herself soften at his gaze. It's been a while since she last felt this supported. She never really realized how lonely she had been up until this moment. For the first time in a long time, she wasn't alone. "Thank you Harry. Really. That means the world to me." She jumped to crush him into another tight hug.

"Anything for you Hermione." Pulling out of the hug, he placed both his hands on her shoulders. "But I'm serious. If that ferret's being a rightful ass, you let me know, alright? In case you forgot, I happen to be an Auror, and I also happen to have the single most useful trump card of all time."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. "What?"

He shrugged. "I'm Harry Potter."

Hermione rolled her eyes. It was one of the things neither of them loved to use, but when desperate times came, they did pull out the 'I'm' card.

"So say the word Hermione, and I'll come to your rescue!"

She chuckled at his poorly done superhero impression. "Harry James Potter, since when have I ever needed to be rescued?"

* * *

"Well, well, well… Look at what the cat dragged in."

Ginny twisted her head to glare at the owner of the voice who clearly directed that insult at her. She raised her drink at him mockingly. "Zabini. I see you're still sour over that Quidditch match."

Blaise narrowed his eyes at the smug look the redhead gave him, annoyed at having been reminded of that one time she successfully knocked him off his broom.

They were both chasers, making it illegal for either of them to touch the bludger. She, however, had been more than willing to undergo the five-second stun punishment in exchange for knocking him off his game. He scowled. The amount of Skelegrow he had to devour was mortifying. He never got her back for that.

"What you lacked in talent, you made up through foul play. You should be grateful you're _fractionally_ decent at Quidditch, and that the Holyhead Harpies are that desperate. Your OWLs were humiliating."

Ginny had only ever intentionally broken the rules once during Quidditch. And it was all so she could get back at him for making fun of the fact that most of her Quidditch gear had been hand me downs.

"Well, if this _fractionally_ decent player was capable of outmatching you, then what does that make you?" She frowned at the self-important look on his face, itching to send another bludger right at him. "Besides, what on earth gave you the idea that my OWLs were humiliating?"

"Word gets around." Blaise paused to glance at his finger nails, uninterested. "Guess idiocy runs in the family." Snorting at how her older brothers seemed to have poor OWLs as well.

Ginny watched him wink at a woman passing by, who sent him a lecherous gaze in return. She snorted. "I guess being a slut runs in the family too." She felt the air around him change, but she was already a couple of drinks in so she didn't particularly give a shit about his feelings. Not that she ever would, even if she were sober.

"How many was it again?" She paused to glance at her well-manicured hands, mimicking his earlier gesture. "Six? Seven marriages?" She shrugged. "And all died of _mysterious_ illnesses, leaving your family with a fortune good enough to last several generations." She wagged her eyebrows.

"You better shut the fuck up now, Weasley." His tone was low, quiet, but menacing; cutting through the noise of the rowdy bar.

Ginny laughed uninhibitedly, proud of the fact that she was able to push the Zabini heir's buttons. "What? You can insult my family but I can't do the same to you?" She snorted. "At least mine no longer lives in poverty. Everything we have, we earned through _legal_ means. But can you say the same for yours?" She felt him tense up, looking just about ready to wring her throat.

"Can't think of an answer to that, can you?" Ginny rolled her eyes chuckling to herself. She moved away from the bar with her drink in one hand, not bothering to wait for his response. 

Blaise watched her walk away, clenching both fists tightly to reel in his rage. He would make her pay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thank you for reading! A kudos would be appreciated :) Also, thank you to the wonderful people who take time to leave comments. They make me so happy ^^


	10. Memory Lane

Blaise groaned at the light that flittered right onto his eyes, pissed at the fact that the hired help had once again forgotten to fully close the curtains in his room. That was the one thing he absolutely hated about the muggle world – the absence of reliable servants. No one could do housework as well as elves.

He cracked open one eye to glare at the drapes, as if the gesture could force them shut. It was just his luck that the morning sun had been aimed perfectly on his face. The rest of the room was still shrouded in darkness. Clicking his tongue, he moved to step out of his bed, only to realize that his arm was stuck under something soft and warm. Turning his head, he groaned even louder, running his free hand over his face.

He had one basic rule when it came to one night stands – never in his own house. Never in his own bed. He pulled his arm out as gingerly as he could, feeling smooth skin brush against his own. A soft feminine moan reached his ears. He had every intention of closing the curtains and getting more sleep, but he didn't want the woman to think that he was after something more than a quick shag.

Creating as much noise as he could, he pulled at the cloth roughly, muttering a curse at the sudden brightness. That, plus the terrible headache his hangover gave him, made him swear out loud again. He turned around to salvage what was left of his vision.

Rubbing his eyes to soothe them, he blinked a few times, silently taking note of the woman's blurred silhouette as she slowly roused from her slumber. She stretched her arms up in the air, yawning loudly without a care. He squinted at the muddled patch of red on the bed.

"I think you should go." Came his indifferent tone. He blinked tightly, still waiting for the clarity of his vision to return. He watched her pull the covers over her body, looking down at herself in what he assumed was surprise. He snorted. If anyone should be surprised, it should be him. He had no idea how this woman managed to make him take her back home, but he would make sure it would never happen again.

Blaise narrowed his eyes. The woman had yet to look at him but something about her felt familiar. Her head was still down, probably busy trying to piece together images of what happened last night. He cleared his throat to get her attention.

"Hey, listen-"

"What happened-"

Blaise blinked. Once. Twice. Rubbed his eyes a few times. Squeezed them shut before opening them again. No. This had to be a joke. This couldn't be happening. Those brown eyes. That red hair. No way in hell was he starting at the face of an equally shocked Ginevra Weasley.

They screamed in unison.

* * *

"These are a lot Hermione! Are you sure it's okay for you to donate all of these? Some of them look pretty new."

Hermione smiled at the woman who beamed at the sight of all the things she brought for their monthly garage sale. "Of course, Mrs. Wilkins! Anything for the cause."

"Oh please! I've told you time and again, just call me Monica!"

Hermione glanced at the hand that now cradled her own. "Sorry, I always forget." She paused, gazing at the familiar set of warm brown eyes she'd been so used to looking at. The older woman cut her hair this time around. They fell right at her shoulders. She seemed to have lost some weight too, but in a healthy way. She looked radiant.

"Monica." Hermione finally said. She felt a soft squeeze on her hand before the middle-aged woman waved a man over to where they were.

"Wendell! Take a look at all the things Hermione brought this time around!"

Hermione watched the him fumble a bit with his glasses, before heading straight to them. His tummy was much rounder this time around, and he had a bit of a limp to his gait. She eyed his foot with worry. "Everything alright, Mr. Wilkins?"

Grinning at her sheepishly, the older man scratched the back of his head. "Well, the sudden weight gain seemed to have made it a bit difficult for my ankle." He laughed out loud. "Signs of aging, I tell you! You feel it more when you hit your 50s!"

Hermione watched the two of them bicker over their health habits. They clearly had very different lifestyles, much to the chagrin of Mrs. Wilkins. She smiled. They looked happy.

"It's always so difficult trying to keep this one alive! I honestly won't be surprised if one day he'll be doubled over the bathtub from a heart attack!"

"Honey! Why would you say that? What if it comes true?" Mr. Wilkins's face scrunched up in worry.

"Then you better start taking care of yourself!" The older woman paused to turn her attention to Hermione, clearly looking for an ally. "I ask him to jog with me every single day! And you know what he tells me?" She paused to throw a look of annoyance at her husband. " _Maybe tomorrow._ That's what he says! Every single day!"

Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the scene. They may have had their names and identities changed, but they were just as she remembered them.

A little over a year ago, when she found out they started managing a non-government organization for children with cancer, she grabbed the opportunity. She had been beyond frightened at first.

What would she tell them? How would she act? Would they feel a weird connection towards her? She tried to talk herself out of it several times, but the thought of never speaking to them again was just downright heartbreaking.

It was one thing to agonize over the fact that she was a stranger to them, but it would have been a completely different level of dread if they ended up feeling unfamiliar to her. Seeing that they were exactly as she remembered them made her feel at peace. 

Realizing they've been arguing for quite some time now, the married couple apologized for their callousness. "Sorry to keep you, dear! You can set up over there. Right beside the Hodgkins!" Mrs. Wilkins blinked at the lack of a response from the younger woman. She waved at her face to get her attention. "Hermione?"

"Oh! Sorry, what did you say?" Hermione tucked her hair behind both ears to hide her embarrassment.

Mrs. Wilkins offered her a comforting smile. "No worries, dear! You're probably exhausted from hauling these items all the way from Sydney!"

"That's true!" Mr. Wilkins nodded. "I can't imagine travelling all the way to Melbourne just for a fundraiser! You're a well and true angel, that's what you are!"

Hermione pursed her lips at the term of endearment. It had been her father's favorite. "It's no problem at all." She managed to reply through a tight smile. She remembered having to lie about where she lived because they were insistent on having her over at their house. She wasn't sure she was ready for that. She could barely hold back her tears at the opportunity of conversing with them. Besides, she didn't trust herself enough not to divulge everything to them. She couldn't risk exposing the truth while they still had their memories erased.

"If you ever need a place to stay while you're here, just let us know alright? We have a spare room." Mrs. Wilkins assured her with a hand on her arm once again, caressing her fondly.

Hermione took a deep breath, silently nodding her thanks. She didn't think her voice would be even enough for a verbal reply. She moved to haul up one of the boxes she brought along, watching her parents scramble to help her out with the rest. They walked alongside her towards the assigned booth.

Hermione sighed. She could have this, couldn't she? She wasn't breaking any of the rules, was she? She watched them bicker over where to put certain items, laughing at each other's reasoning. She smiled. For now, this was enough.

* * *

_I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child I was taught what was right, but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father, particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing; to care for none beyond my own family circle; to think meanly of all the rest of the world; to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight and twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you, I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased._

Draco eyed the passage with disdain, chucking the book back to the table. He was flipping through it nonchalantly after he sent his owl away, when that narrative caught his eye. He was positively sure that it was one of the reasons why Granger chose that book for him to read. He snorted. He didn't need some ridiculous muggle literature to help him analyze the conditions of his past. He did it more than enough to drive himself crazy.

He grabbed his empty goblet, refilling it to the brim with firewhiskey. He finished reading the entire thing the day he bought it. After all, it wasn't a long novel, nor was it particularly boring. The characters were witty, and the world they revolved in – along with all its snobbish pleasantries – was quite parallel to pureblood traditions and practices.

He rolled his eyes. Probably yet another reason the all-knowing bookworm considered. But if she had any delusion that she would be the Elizabeth Bennet to his Fitzwilliam Darcy, she was grossly mistaken.

Running a hand through his hair, Draco glanced at the book once again, still clueless as to how things eventually steered towards that direction. He was genuinely surprised at his propensity to veer off script. The fact that it would happen before he even realized was baffling to him.

All the late night plotting they'd done was probably to blame. It was almost comical how natural it was for them to bicker back and forth. Was he getting more used to her that he thought? He scoffed. It couldn't be. 

Draco eyed the clock, sighing in annoyance. It was a Friday evening and Granger had yet to send him an owl regarding their supposed date this weekend. It was her turn to pick.

They skipped out on last week's scheduled one because of an engagement she had out of town. He was curious, but he could tell by tone of her letter that it was none of his business, and that he had no right to inquire.

Now he had been forced to send her a message to follow up on their plans. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. Just what the hell was that woman up to?

* * *

"And that's the last of it!" Harry huffed, placing the box on top of his kitchen counter. "Are you guys-" He groaned at the sight of Ron and Lavender making out on the couch. Ron had offered to help move some of his things for his two-month long vacation, but the redhead was barely any help.

"Oops, sorry Harry." Ron mumbled as he pushed himself off the couch, offering a hand to Lavender to help her up. She giggled at having been discovered. "Yeah, sorry Harry."

Harry shook his head at the two of them. It was like they were back at Hogwarts with the way they were making heart eyes at each other. "I was just wondering if you guys were hungry."

"Oh! Uh…" Ron paused to glance over at Lavender; his hand still intertwined with hers. "We were actually hoping to explore Paris a little, before we head back."

Harry rolled his eyes. "So _that_ was the real reason for helping me move."

"Sorry Harry, it was my idea! Don't blame Ron, okay?" Lavender raised her free hand up in a half prayer gesture. "It's just that it's hard to sneak in a vacation with his work and all, so I kind of…" She winced now that she was hearing herself out loud. "…just invited myself here."

Harry waved a hand in the air, shaking his head nonchalantly. "It's fine. I understand." He flinched at the sudden bone-crushing hug the couple offered him in gratitude. "Okay. Okay. I get it. You guys are touchy."

Lavender giggled again at the uncomfortable expression on the Golden boy's face. "Thanks Harry." She gave him a peck on the cheek.

"Hey!" Ron playfully pulled her away from his best friend. "I'm the only one you get to kiss, alright?" He grinned when she placed both her arms around his neck to pull him down for a one.

"Ugh, could you guys _please_ spare me the PDA." Harry moved to open the door to his flat, tilting his head towards it to get them to leave. "Now go. Ruin someone else's field of vision."

"You never know, Harry! You might get some PDA while you're here." Lavender laughed again at his consternation. "It's Paris after all!" She winked.

Ron paused by the door to tap him on the shoulder. "I owe you for this."

"Sure. Sure." Harry mumbled, waving them off. "Owl me if you need anything, alright?" He heard Ron call out down the hallway as he shut the door. He sighed. They were sickeningly sweet, but for some reason, it worked for both of them. It was a strange kind of relationship wherein they liked making each other jealous, but loved making up even more. "Whatever makes them happy, I guess." He shrugged.

Harry placed his hands on his hips, eying his one bedroom apartment. This would be his home for the next two months. Sensing his stomach growl, he moved to grab his keys. Unpacking could wait. He would explore his new environment first.

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, Harry took a moment to breathe in the air. He closed his eyes. This was his new beginning. Nodding his head, he started walking towards an unknown destination. There was a spring to his step, and a lightness in his chest. The sun was out, the trees were swaying with the wind, and soft jazz music was playing from a café a block away from his apartment building. He grinned, chuckling to himself. He felt limitless. It was as if for the first time ever in his life, he was free.

He turned his gaze up to the sky laughing out loud, uncaring of how he may have looked to bystanders. He stuck his hands out in abandon, spinning as he walked. Nothing could ruin this day! He was claiming it now. The next two months were going to be awe-

Harry barely had time to stretch his arms out to catch his fall. Something hit him from behind, sending him face first onto the concrete. He snapped his head back to glare at the perpetrator, only to be met with the sight of black high heeled stilettoes stepping out of a taxi. He groaned as he pushed himself off the ground, ready to call out the rude woman who opened a cab so hard she threw a grown man off his feet.

Harry could hear the woman arguing with someone on the phone about a misunderstanding regarding her limousine service. He rolled his eyes. "Excuse me, miss. I don't mean to be rude but-" He flinched when the woman simultaneously flipped her phone and the car door shut without warning. She was eying him from head to toe wordlessly; a gigantic pair of sunglasses engulfed the upper half of her face.

"Well if it isn't Harry Potter." Came her haughty drawl. "Color me surprised."

Harry watched the woman pull off her shades, dangling the large eye piece on one hand languidly. He sighed. Just when he thought nothing could ruin this day. "Parkinson." He eyed her skeptically. "Last time I check, I was in the muggle world."

"Yes, and last time I checked, I told you lot to go fuck off."

Harry narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Excuse me?" He watched her roll her eyes at him. He almost winced at the unnatural way her pupils moved.

"I don't have time for this, Potter. As you can see…" She paused to gesture towards the shop they were standing in front of. "I have an empire to run." She snapped her sunglasses shut, clipping it onto the collar of her perfectly pressed black dress. "So you can tell all those farts in the ministry to go _fuck_ themselves. I've done my share of _warrantless_ detention. Any more unlawful moves on your part would merit a date with your department and my solicitors." She narrowed her eyes menacingly. "And trust me, I have the best that money can buy."

Harry failed to hide the look of utter incredulity on his face. "What on earth are you babbling about?"

Pansy clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Don't act dumb, Potter. You know what I'm talking about!"

"No, I don't." He insisted; his tone more aggravated than it initially had been.

Pansy now mirrored the look of disbelief on his face. "You've got to be kidding me." Her voice was barely over a whisper. It seems The Boy Who Lived wasn't lying. "You don't have a clue, do you?"

Harry folded his arms across his chest, waiting patiently for her to continue.

Pansy threw her head back dramatically, laughing out loud in abandon. She raised a hand to still him from giving any response as she collected herself. "Oh this is rich! You're an Auror but you're not even aware of the Ministry's inner workings?"

Harry sputtered at the vague accusation. "Parkinson, just what the hell are you trying to say?"

"That whole 'Order of the Phoenix' crap is basically the second wave." Pansy was still chuckling to herself, ignoring his question as she shook her head. She turned around to head up the steps of her boutique's second branch, not bothering to spare him a glance. "I guess they don't tell their poster boy everything."

* * *

"Blaise, grab Audrey Hepburn! She's a frisky one so don't let her out of your-"

"Ouch! This little shit bit me!"

"Oh dear, Jackie Chan. Now why would you- Sweet balls of Merlin! Beyonce Knowles! Amelia Earhart! You ladies get _down_ from that curtain right this instant!"

"Ah fuck! This one just peed on me!"

"Ugh, Romeo Montague! We've talked about this _over_ and _over_!"

Draco eyed the scene before him incredulously. Several cats and kittens were running all over the place with Blaise and Theo on their heels. He pinched his nose to reel in the frustration. Theo was bothering him on a Saturday for this? "Tell me again why I'm here."

"Oh Draco! My _dearest_ childhood friend!" Came Theo's desperate tone as he chased after a kitten that successfully wiggled out of his grasp. "Glad to know you got my owl!"

"What the hell are you imbeciles doing?" Draco glared at the two of them, folding his arms across his chest, not bothering to help.

"Neutering!" Theo answered, pausing to whisper a spell to a cat he had in his grasp. "We need to stop them from spawning!"

"You shouldn't have gotten so many in the first place!" Blaise called out as he side stepped a kitten who tried to scratch his boots. They were Italian leather for crying out loud!

Draco knew Theo had a soft spot for animals. He always had since they were kids. It may have been a few months since he last visited Nott manor, but this was just madness. The last time he was here, he could have sworn Theo only had two. Now he stopped counting at 23. "Where did you even get all these cats?"

"I think the better question is, what the hell is with his _obsessive_ need to rescue strays!" Blaise yelled in correction as tried to pull one off his silk shirt, groaning when he heard a small ripping sound. He tossed the kitten right at Theo.

"Hey, careful with Cher! She's very delicate." Theo stroked the back of her neck to soothe her. "There, there. You can fool around with Oprah once I'm done with you."

"This is ridiculous." Draco mumbled, turning around to leave when a cat grabbed hold of the edge of his slacks. He eyed it ominously. "Let go you little twat."

"Oh, that's Albert Einstein. He's a _he._ So if you're going to insult him, call him a dick."

Draco rolled his eyes at the unnecessary information. He crouched down to grab the cat by the back of its neck. He roughly pulled its paw off his clothes, before chucking it over to Theo. "There. You can have Albert back." But just as he got rid of one, several others began hounding him for attention. One jumped on his head, then another pair landed on his lap. One more started teething on his right shoe, and two others began clawing up the back of his shirt. "What the-! Get off me!"

Theo clicked his tongue as he headed towards Draco, annoyed at having to assist. He plucked them off one by one, calling their names out in reproach. "Mulan, Cleopatra, Magdalena, Tchaikovsky, Nobunaga, Ghandi!"

"What the hell are you naming your cats?!" Draco bolted up to his feet when he was finally free. He swiped at his clothes vigorously, not wanting to smell like catnip.

Theo opened his mouth to explain, but stopped himself. He didn't have the time to spare at the moment. "Nevermind." He shook his head quickly, delving back into the carnage. He needed to get them all neutered before the next heatwave happens. He couldn't afford to get anymore cats. He was already having a hard time trying to remember all their names.

"How the hell did they even get this many in the first place?!" Blaise complained, but continued to chuck the kittens he caught at Theo.

Draco moved away from the scene, leaning against the far end of the foyer. Why they decided to round up all the cats here was beyond him. It would have been much easier for them if they had picked a smaller room. He sighed, not wanting this farce to continue any longer. One wave of his wand made every single cat freeze in place. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you both wizards?"

Theo clicked his tongue. For whatever reason, when Blaise arrived earlier this afternoon, he seemed distracted and a bit distraught. It was much easier than usual to mess with him when he was like this, and Theo was eternally an opportunist. "Here I was enjoying his cluelessness. Do you have to ruin everything, Draco?"

"You said the spell wouldn't work if they were stupefied!" Blaise eyed Theo in disbelief, finally realizing he had been played all along. Pulling out his wand, he sent a huge blob of water right onto the Nott heir's face, knocking him off his feet and onto his ass. He scoffed in satisfaction when the smaller man started coughing at the unexpected barrage of liquid.

"Choking? Drowning?" Theo let out another round of coughs; his eyes watering in pain. "Why I had no idea those were your kinks, Blaise."

Draco waved his wand at Theo to get him dry, too annoyed to bother. "Sort this all out by yourself."

"Why so prickly, Draco?" Theo called out to his retreating back, pausing for a moment to calm the involuntary heaving of his chest. "Still no word from Granger?" He teased. He didn't expect the blonde to turn back around, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

"No." Draco eyed them wearily. "Quite frankly, it's been more than a week since I last heard from her. Eleven days to be exact."

Theo was surprised by the honest answer. "But who's counting right?" The glare Draco sent him made him raise his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, couldn't help it."

"She's never _not_ responded before." Draco started pacing. "This isn't like her." He had a bad feeling at the pit of his stomach. He couldn't explain what it was, but it made him anxious.

"You think she's second guessing things?" Blaise stated flatly, walking away from the army of cats, leaving Theo alone to fend for himself.

"It's a possibility." Draco grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. He tapped his foot on the marble floor, unable to stay still. That thought had been on the back of his mind for the past few days. What would he do if she decided to back out of the arrangement?

"Relax." Came Theo's drawn-out tone. "She's probably just buried in a mountain of books or something."

Draco clicked his tongue at him in annoyance. "Not helping, Theo."

Blaise sighed, shaking his head at the immaturity of the Nott heir. "Well, if you can't get in touch with her via owl, then there's only one thing left to do."

Draco groaned. He didn't want to, but he knew he was left with no other choice.

* * *

Draco glared at the time. It was five minutes to nine in the evening now, and Granger had yet to send him a letter. He wrote to her yesterday, and once again this morning, but both returned unopened. His eagle owl came back irritated on both occasions, clearly not used to being ignored.

He was growing more aggravated by the second and the ticking sound of the grandfather clock did nothing to quell his thoughts. If anything, the countdown was making his mind run a mile a minute.

Was she ignoring him on purpose? Rethinking their entire arrangement? Perhaps she was doing it to spite him? Or was she seriously going to back out of their deal? He ran a hand through his hair. He could never get a read on that woman, and it infuriated him to no end.

Draco stood up from the couch to grab a handful of green powder. His hand made a move to chuck it at the flames, but he stopped himself last minute.

He stood by the fireplace, gritting his teeth in uncertainty. He had never gone to her flat, despite having their floos connected. It was an unspoken agreement of some sort that they would always meet at his temporary settlement to handle their affairs.

The chiming of the clock made him sigh. There really was no other way around it. If she would get pissed at his sudden arrival, she would just have to deal with it. After all, it was her fault for being unreachable. Taking a deep breath, he threw the powder into the fire.

Draco coughed several times, brushing the dust off his shoulders in annoyance. It had been a while since he last used the floo. The only places he ever visited were ones that allowed him to apparate.

He narrowed his eyes at the darkness. He could tell by the furniture that he was in her living room. It was eerily quiet, as if no one was home.

"Granger?" There was no answer. Was she out? He headed to the kitchen that was adjacent to it, eyeing the clean sink and the empty table. The door by the end of the narrow hallway caught his attention. It was slightly ajar; a subtle light streaming out it. He narrowed his eyes. Was that her bedroom? Was she inside?

"Granger?" He called out louder this time, but still, there was no answer. He let out a slow breath. The cramped space was beginning to grate on his nerves, and the darkness did nothing to pacify him.

He was standing by the door now, knocking against it firmly. He called to her again, but there was no reply. Feeling his patience run thin, he huffed as he pushed the door open. He peeked into the room, freezing at the sight before him.

She was sitting in the dark on the floor by the foot of her bed in silence. The light of the full moon through the large windows made the entire scene feel haunted. She was in a daze, staring at a wall full of scribbles, torn pages from books, diagrams, drawings, and all kinds of paraphernalia that looked haphazard and worn-down. It awoke a myriad of memories that involved the darkness; none he was willing to remember.

Draco took a deep breath to calm the steady panic building in his chest. He closed his eyes, focusing on impeding his current train of thought. This was not the time nor the place to have an attack.

"Occlude. Occlude. Occlude." He chanted softly to himself. When his breathing evened, he opened his eyes once again; glad he had been capable of recollecting himself.

Draco made his way towards her. "Granger, what the fuck are you doing?" He was standing right beside her, but she still didn't acknowledge him. Her eyes were vacant, unblinking, and had a far look on them.

He waved a hand over her face. "Hey! Snap out of it." She stayed immobile, completely detached. His existence didn't even register to her. He narrowed his eyes to glance at the wall she was so entranced with. A closer look now told him what it was all about.

Obliviation.

It was full of case studies, statistics, spells, potions, personal accounts from victims, research articles, and a list of specialists that worked in relation to that field. All the information was stacked on top of a large world map that encompassed the entirety of her wall. She sorted facts according to geography. And based on the sheer amount of data he could see, it must have taken her years to build this.

He turned his gaze back to her, finally understanding the look on her face. She was lost. All her years of research wasn't amounting to anything. It was a desperate race against time, and she was losing.

Golden girl Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of her age, couldn't find the answer to the one thing that mattered to her the most.

Draco swallowed, unsure what to do. This was a side of her he had never seen before, but the look on her face was too familiar. It was the same look she had when she finally stopped screaming – when the torture had been too much she could no longer bring herself to react. 

_I don't know. I'm telling the truth!_

_Why are you doing this?_

_It hurts! Make it stop!_

_Someone help!_

_No more, please…_

_Please!_

Draco felt himself spiraling into a full blown panic attack, unable to occlude the onslaught of memories from that night. He felt the contents of his stomach rise as he ran out the room to head towards what he assumed would be the bath.

Hunching over the toilet, he convulsed several times before he finally vomited. He could taste the disgusting mixture of firewhiskey and bile. He retched until there was nothing left for him to spit out.

He heaved uncontrollably, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to regulate himself. It's been a few months since his last attack that he'd almost forgotten just how frightening they could get.

He moved to lean back against the tiled wall, drawing his knees in to support his head. He ran his hands through his hair, clenching them tightly in a desperate attempt to anchor himself back to reality.

He began reciting the date today, counting in sevens, mumbling the date of the next couple of Saturdays. It was something he realized he could do to stay grounded. Numbers were constant, never changing. They were always a comfortable distraction to his breakdowns.

He kept at it until he was no longer shaking, no longer drowning. He made sure to count up to ten more Saturdays before he allowed himself to stand.

He wobbled a bit as he headed for the sink. Rinsing his mouth out, he stared at the disturbed expression on his face. "What the hell are you looking at?" He spat out, sneering at his reflection on the mirror, biting down the overwhelming need to slam his fist against it.

Splashing his face with water, he grabbed a handful of tissues, rubbing them against his skin randomly before he chucked them to the floor. He stomped his way back to the bedroom with newfound anger.

How dare she awaken his memories? How dare she undo what he worked so hard to occlude?

"Granger!" He yelled as he headed back to the room. Pissed that she still wasn't responding, he knelt right in front of her to grab both her shoulders, shaking her roughly. "Wake up, you fucking idiot!"

He screamed at her several more times, but none of his insults seemed to reach her. He already had half a mind to slap her senseless, when her given name slipped out of his lips. "Hermione!"

He watched as her eyes slowly focused on him. She blinked. "Mom?" She called out. Her voice sounded small and slightly hoarse from disuse. "Dad?" She added. He narrowed his eyes. She was obviously still out of it. Just how long had she been staring into space?

He opened his mouth with every intention of yelling at her again; but she suddenly brought her hands over her face, bursting into tears. His surprise made him let go of her shaking shoulders, causing her to fall forward against his chest.

He held his breath, both arms hanging in the air, completely caught off guard by the sudden turn of events. He could feel every shudder of her breath, every lurch of her body. He kept his gaze on anywhere but her.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He heard her repeating in between sobs. "It's all my fault. I didn't mean to. I swear."

Draco swallowed a lump in his throat, still frozen in place as he listened to her mutter apologies. He wanted to push her off and scream at her, but for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to. He could feel his fingers shaking and he didn't know why.

Slowly, awkwardly, he placed a hand on her back; his other one moved to the top of her head, patting her cautiously, hesitantly. He had no idea what the hell he was doing, but it seemed to calm her down. She was breathing a bit more evenly now, save for the few instances her chest would hitch. He felt her hands slide down his chest before landing on the tops of his thighs. She was silent once again.

Mustering up the courage, Draco tilted his head to glance at her face, only to see that she had fallen asleep. One cheek was on his shirt, soaking it with tears, while the other half stayed shiny and wet. He cursed under his breath. Of course she would fall asleep!

He huffed, fighting the compulsion to shake her awake once more. Mumbling complaints under his breath, he hoisted her up in his arms, surprised by how light she was. Did she even eat? He let out a breath. Not that it was any of his concern.

Draco tucked her into bed, grabbing the covers to wipe the other side of her face dry. He eyed her unruly bushy hair, swollen eyes, freckled face, red patchy skin, and lint-filled pajamas. He snorted. She looked like a rightful mess.

* * *

Hermione blinked, wincing at the rawness of her eyes and the painful way they met the sunlight. She pressed both her palms against them in an attempt to soothe the burning. She groaned, turning away from the windows. She felt exhausted.

"What on earth…" She tried to recall the events from yesterday, but her mind came up blank. She massaged her temples, cursing at the headache that crept up on her out of nowhere. She sighed. She felt like shit.

Forcing herself to sit up, she stiffened when her eyes landed on her wall. It was the first thing she noticed the moment she woke up, and the last thing she saw before she went to bed. One look at it and she could tell something was amiss.

"No no no no no..."

Hermione scrambled out the bed, placing her hands against her research, eying all the missing data she worked so hard to procure.

Did she take them out? No, she would have remembered if she had. Did someone break into her flat? She paused, but she could feel her wards still intact. What if news about her parents got out? What if the remaining Voldemort loyalists went after them?

She forgot to breath, feeling the panic in her chest threatening to overflow.

"Harry…" Hermione whispered to herself. She had to call him. He could help. He was the only one she knew who could.

She ran out of her room in alarm, with every intention of heading to his flat. But when her eyes landed on a familiar mop of platinum blonde hair, bits and pieces of last night came rushing back to her.

His wide eyes were on her, unmistakably surprised by the racket she had caused. "Malfoy." She whispered, more a question than a greeting. She was unsure what the hell he was doing sitting on her couch, lounging in her living room; but the sight of her research sprawled across the coffee table made her see red.

"What. The fuck. Are you doing here." She paused, reeling from the intense surge of rage she felt. She watched him stand up slowly. His gaze was on one of her files, oblivious to the extent of her fury.

"My letters weren't getting to you. And you haven't contacted me about our plans for this weekend." Draco's eyes never left the parchment he was scanning as he made his way to her. "Listen, I-"

"Put. That. Down." Came her low but livid tone. She saw him glance up at her, taken aback by the amount of disdain in her voice. She snatched the papers out of his grasp, waving them in front his face in contempt. "Who the hell gave you the right to touch any of these, huh?"

"I was just-"

"You were just what, Malfoy?" She cut him off, slamming the files back down the coffee table, causing a few of them to topple over the edge in a messy heap. He was glaring at her now.

"Don't get your fucking knickers in a bunch, Granger. I was just trying to help."

Hermione's jaw dropped at his reply. It took her a few seconds to recollect herself. Letting out a mirthless laugh, she raised a hand against her temple, before waving it out in a gesture of incredulity. "Trying to help?" She reiterated mockingly. "And you expect me to believe such an _obvious_ lie?" She saw him open his mouth to retort, but she wouldn't let him.

"No. No. No." She raised a finger in the air, wagging it for emphasis. "Draco Malfoy doesn't _help_. Draco Malfoy doesn't do _anything_ out of the goodness of his heart!" She taunted.

Draco felt something in his chest ready to burst. "You don't _fucking_ know me, Granger. So stop acting like you do."

"Don't I?" Came her challenging tone. "Let's see. Let me jog my memory for a bit." Her eyes were on him, unflinching. "First year. You were talking to Neville then."

Draco scoffed in disbelief. "You want to take a trip down memory lane, Granger?"

_"You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team? It's people they feel sorry for. See, there's Potter who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money – you should be on the team, Longbottom, you've got no brains."_

Draco was glaring at her now, but she showed no indication of stopping.

"Then there was that whole thing at Flourish and Blotts. You were taunting Harry because you were _jealous_ that Gilderoy Lockheart personally gave him a free copy of his books. On the other hand, your father was insulting Arthur Weasley for associating with my muggle parents. Remember that?"

"What the hell are you trying to achieve with this, Granger?" Draco sighed, eying his fingernails in disinterest.

Hermione sneered at the gesture. "Don't worry. I'm not _nearly_ done. By the time this is over, you won't have the opportunity to be _bored."_ She lifted her chin up in the air. "Second year, when you were made seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team. You know, when your dad _bought_ your way in?" She smirked at the dark look in his eyes. "It was the first time you, or anyone else for that matter, called me a 'filthy little Mudblood'." She paused, waiting for him to say something, but he stayed silent. His gaze was on the floor now, and his breathing grew heavy.

"Third year." She kept going. "When you were stupid enough to get attacked by Buckbeak. It had been entirely _your_ fault, but you had the audacity to try and get Hagrid fired, _and_ have your father lobby for the execution of the Hippogriff." She huffed. It was only thanks to the help of a time turner that they were able to save the magical creature. "Do you remember what happened next? I doubt you've forgotten. _I_ certainly haven't. After all, it was the first time I've ever slapped someone on the face!"

His eyes were back on her, burning with a rage not even his Occlumency could damper. It gave her a sick sense of satisfaction seeing him this way.

"Don't even get me started on all the _shit_ you fed Skeeter." She rolled her eyes. "Were you that bored, Malfoy? Or did you just not have a life?" She noticed him fist both his hands, desperately trying to reel his anger in. 

"Let's move on to The Inquisitorial Squad, shall we?" Hermione grinned in a feral way. This specific instance she had committed to memory.

 _"The members of the Inquisitorial Squad do have the power to dock points. So Granger, I'll have five from you for being rude about our new headmistress. Macmillan, five for contradicting me. Five because I don't like you, Potter. Weasley, your shirt's untucked, so I'll take another five for that."_ She paused, eying him to see if he knew what the next words would be. The way he refused to meet her eyes told her that he did. _"Oh yeah, I forgot, you're a Mudblood, Granger, so ten for that."_

Draco turned around to apparate. There was no point in having such a one-sided conversation. Realizing that the wards prevented him from doing so, he headed to the floo, but she had been quicker. She cut him off by grabbing the bag full of powder off the top of the fireplace.

"Fucking hell Granger-"

"Let's not forget your songwriting skills, Malfoy!" Hermione chuckled to herself as she bounced the pouch in her hand, ignoring the green dust that now littered her palm. She began to playfully sing the lyrics to the song 'Weasley is Our King', much to Malfoy's aggravation.

_Weasley cannot save a thing_

_He cannot block a single ring_

_That's why Slytherins all sing_

_Weasley is our king_

_Weasley was born in a bin_

_He always lets the Quaffle in_

_Weasley will make sure we win_

_Weasley is our king_

"When I saw you and Parkinson conduct the Slytherins during the match, I _knew_ you were behind it." Hermione shrugged. "The words lacked imagination, but even I have to admit that the tune was catchy. That's why it was so easy for us to reword it!"

_Weasley is our king_

_Weasley is our king_

_He didn't let the Quaffle in_

_Weasley is our king_

_Weasley can save anything_

_He never leaves a single ring_

_That's why all the Gryffindors sing_

_Weasley is our king_

Draco gazed at the strange glint in her eye, clearly disturbed. She was singing with abandon like a madwoman with more than a few screws loose. She was starting to look just like his _–_ He shook his head, forcing the memories back as much as he could.

"You said you wanted to write a couple of verses about his _fat and ugly mother,_ and how you tried to fit in _useless loser_ for his father _._ Then you went on to ask Harry how he tolerates the Burrow's stink, but since he's been _dragged up by Muggles, even the Weasley's hovel smells okay._ " She paused to glare at him, trying her best to imitate the haughty tone of his voice. " _Or perhaps you can remember what your mother's house stank like Potter, and Weasley's pigsty reminds you of it."_

"Shut up." Draco muttered weakly, focusing on his Occlumency. He wanted to sew her mouth shut, or blast her jaw off – anything to get her to stop talking.

"What's the matter Malfoy? Are your _own_ words making you uncomfortable?" Hermione teased, narrowing her eyes at the pained look on his face. He was white as a sheet; face shinning with a thin layer of sweat. His eyes were shut tightly and he was muttering something under his breath. She scoffed. She was just getting started.

"How about we move on to sixth year?" She paused when she saw him visibly shudder. She raised an eyebrow. _"Dumbledore._ Does the name ring a bell?" Her eyes widened when she heard him heave, doubling over to vomit on the floor, but nothing would come out. "Malfoy, what the hell-" He was in front of her in an instant.

Hermione felt herself shoved to one side, unable to react. She fell to the floor ungracefully; the bag of floo powder snatched out of her grasp. A green light filled the room before she could even stand. When she turned around, he was gone.

* * *

"He's not going to want them, Theo. Trust me." Blaise rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time, ignoring the animal sleeping on his chest as he lounged on the gray velvet couch. His silk shirt was beyond salvaging, and he had long since given up trying to get the annoying ginger kitten off his person.

"But. But. Look! Aren't they just perfect?" Theo raised the tuxedo cats towards the Zabini heir. "They have his eyes too!"

Blaise sighed at the annoying way the Nott heir was cooing at the pair of kittens. He was all for him getting rid of his cats, but passing the responsibility onto them was ridiculous. He watched the tiny animal open one eye to glance at him, before curling itself tighter into a ball. He blinked. Brown eyes. Ginger hair. He groaned. Now he was sure the universe was conspiring against him.

Theo scratched the back of their ears in adoration. "I'm sure-" The light of the floo grabbed his attention. "Hey, Draco-"

The sound of retching filled the room. Theo and Blaise looked on in shock as the Malfoy heir heaved one last time before he fell to the floor unconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: I'd like to point out that the long narratives in italics are not my words. They are taken from Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen, and the Harry Potter books by J.K. Rowling.
> 
> I have noticed that there has been some backlash against my Hermione. I didn't think I needed to explain, since I assumed the reason for her rage could be implied in the story. So I've decided to break it down for those of you who've felt a strong dislike/hate towards her in this chapter. I agree that her anger was unexpected, but I honestly believe it's justifiable:
> 
> 1\. She was depressed over the fact that she may not ever get her parents back (and she had been the perpetrator in this case)  
> 2\. She woke up to find something she's worked on painstaking, for years, tampered with (if someone suddenly edited my story without warning, I would definitely go batshit crazy lol)  
> 3\. She finds Draco in her house completely unannounced and uninvited (even if it was one of my friends or siblings, if wake up to find one of them in my apartment without warning, I'd still get pissed at the intrusion)  
> 4\. She was extremely exhausted after everything she went through. Imagine walking up first thing in the morning, still disoriented, only to find that the things in your room had been moved? To say that I would go mental would be an understatement haha!  
> 5\. She feared for the safety of her parents if word were to get out that they were still alive.
> 
> Now this isn't to say that it was the mature response from Hermione, because it definitely wasn't. But if we look at the relationship they have (and all the history along with it) for me, it was understandable.
> 
> I've always wanted to read a story that tackled Hermione calling Draco out for all the crap he's ever said and done to her and everyone she cared about, in excruciating detail. I wanted it to be a confrontation that would put Draco on the losing end because, the truth is, he really was that cruel (those were his own words she threw at him). The conflict here would be how they would resolve that heavy past realistically (which I think is often overlooked in a lot of dramione fanfiction) based on how either of them would respond after this event.
> 
> But of course that's just my perspective on things :) we each have our own take on the characters ^^ Thank you for reading. Reviews and constructive criticism are highly appreciated!


	11. Perspective

Ginny closed her eyes in mortification as she strapped on her brassiere, hooking it quickly behind her back. She couldn't believe she had done it again. This was the third time in almost two weeks! She didn't understand why she allowed it to keep happening. It didn't make sense that he permitted repeat occurences of it either.

She turned a bit to glance at him lounging on the bed, smoking a cigarette. Apparently that was his thing – a nicotine stick right after sex. She swept her gaze through the presidential suite they were in, before chancing a glance at his exposed forearm. She pulled the crumpled white dress quickly over her head.

"Just say it." She heard him mumble; voice still hoarse and heavy from exhaustion.

"Say what?" She watched him roll his eyes.

"Subtlety really isn't your thing, Weasley." Blaise turned to look over at her lazily. "Wondering how I hide my dark mark?"

Ginny swallowed in discomfort. Had she really been that obvious? Her gaze went back down to his left forearm. She knew no amount of glamour charms was capable of concealing it, but she wouldn't be surprised if someone had finally devised a way to obscure it.

"Disappointed I'm not a Death Eater?"

Ginny glared at the mocking gaze he sent her way. "Where were you during the war?" She finally allowed herself to ask.

Blaise sighed, crushing the small cigarette butt on the ashtray by the bed, ignoring the bits of grey dust it left on the white sheets. He lit up another one. "I don't see why that's any of your business."

"You believed in blood supremacy as much as any other bigoted pureblood." She pushed on. "So why didn't you join his army?"

Blaise took a long drag, relishing the way his silence annoyed the redhead. He was taking twice as long exhaling the smoke out of his lungs, when an unexpected memory flashed before his eyes.

_(Flashback)_

_Blaise flinched at the sudden pull on his arm, glaring at the rude perpetrator, only to realize it had been his own mother._

_"Sweetheart, we need to talk." She whispered with alarm, directing him towards the balcony in haste._ _Checking to see that they were alone, Mrs. Zabini placed both her hands on her son's shoulders. "Listen to me, Blaise. If someone tries to get you alone like this tonight, promise me you'll get me."_

_Blaise narrowed his eyes. "Mother, what are you-" He watched her spin around, placing both hands on her hips, heaving out a frustrated sigh. She pressed a palm against the front of her corset to calm herself down._

_"Damn those Malfoys! Running this ridiculous farce behind our backs."_

_Blaise watched his mother grit her teeth as she paced, eyes filled with unbridled rage. "Mother, please just-" She was right in front of him again, both hands on either sides of his face._

_"This is an initiation, okay? Those people inside? They're looking for fresh blood. New recruits. But I'll die before I let anyone take you away from me, you hear me?"_

_Blaise blinked. An initiation under the guise of a summer ball run by the Malfoys only meant one thing. "The dark-" A hand was over his mouth; the harsh shush from his mother stilled him. "Not here, Blaise."_

_Gaining her composure, Mrs. Zabini rubbed her hands down her son's arms. She moved to fix his collar; the fingers of her other hand ran through his hair. She cupped his face once again, closing her eyes in a quiet prayer. "Do not, and I repeat, do not accept anything anyone here offers." She brought their foreheads together, staring him straight in the eye. "Do you hear me?"_

_Blaise nodded wordlessly, feeling the gravity of the situation as his mother enveloped him in a quick hug._

_A loud booming proclamation, followed by a chorus of cheers caught their attention._

_Mrs. Zabini_ _huffed in annoyance as she_ _pulled out of the hug. She squeezed her son's hand in reassurance as she_ _guided him back towards the ballroom_ _. After everything she's done to keep him alive, there was no way she would allow him to enlist for a war headed by delusional half-blood._ _"We need to return before anyone realizes we're missing."_

_Now that Blaise had an inkling of the circumstances, he noticed that every rumored death eater in the dark lord's inner circle was in attendance. Bellatrix and Rodulfus Lestrange, Peter Pettigrew, Alecto and Amycus Carrow, Barty Crouch, Jr., Antonin Dolohov, Fenrir Greyback, Igor Karkaroff, Corban Yaxley… He swallowed. Severus Snape._

_Blaise cursed himself internally. He was too busy flirting with Daphne Greengrass earlier that he failed to notice something so obvious. What would happen to him and his mother now that they were dragged into this mess? He had been too distracted to listen to the majority of the announcement, but the sudden sight of Draco and Theo being brought to the middle of the ballroom by Lucius Malfoy, caught his attention._

_"To the next generation!" He heard Bellatrix cheer, raising a glass up in the air. A round of applause followed afterwards._

_Blaise felt the blood drain from his face. So the two of them were…? He couldn't believe his eyes. He watched people clear out from the middle of the ballroom, but Draco stayed, raising a hand at the crowd to gain their attention._

_"My fellow purebloods…" He began, pausing when his eyes landed on Snape. "No offense professor." He grinned, much to the amusement of the crowd._

_Blaise watched Snape wordlessly raise an eyebrow at the jab._

_"Before anything else, I would like to ask everyone to put their hands together for my parents for throwing this wonderful gathering." He paused to clap towards the direction of his mother and father, who looked pleased at his consideration. "Now I won't take long! I'm sure everyone's looking forward to the rest of the evening. I can already see Greyback enjoying the pumpkin pastries over there by the corner." He waved towards the werewolf, who only scoffed in return._

_Blaise watched the Malfoy heir scan the room strategically, demanding the attention of everyone within the vicinity._

_"I only ask for one thing." Draco paused to emphasize his point. "The future generation. Bet it all on me!" He boldly claimed, before raising a hand towards his father who looked just as surprised as everyone in the room. "I am my father's son. Having never failed at a thing in his life, he taught me that anything short of perfection is unacceptable! With this principle instilled in me since birth, I will uphold what it truly means to be pureblooded in this society encroached by filth and unworthiness!" He paused to bow gallantly towards his audience. "I, Draco Malfoy, a member of the sacred twenty-eight, offer you my humble services."_

_Blaise flinched at the instantaneous cheers that burst from the crowd. He saw Bellatrix Lestrange run towards the Malfoy heir, throwing her arms around him, planting a kiss on his cheek. His parents followed afterwards_ _–_ _his father clapping a hand on his shoulder proudly, while his mother adoringly combed a lock of hair out of his eyes._

_"What a disgusting display." Blaise heard his mother whisper through gritted teeth. "That is exactly the kind of arrogance that will lead this society to destruction."_

_The party was back in full swing. His mother had been adamant about keeping him close, but she could only reject so many invitations for a dance before it became suspicious. After all, she was a stunning woman. He had yet to see a man who hadn't been taken by her beauty._

_He had been ordered to stay within sight, so he remained in the ballroom, careful to avoid any interactions with people who associated with the dark lord. He maneuvered himself through the crowd like a chess piece, committing to memory the position of every notable person in the area._

_Just as he moved towards the corner of the ballroom, he caught sight of the Nott father and son, scurrying out of the party. Something about the look on the younger man's eyes compelled him to follow them._

_Eying his mother by the dance floor, he sent her a signal that told her he needed the loo. He saw her panic at the gesture, but he assured her with a nod that he wouldn't be long._

_Heading out through one of the many exits, he scanned the corridor, wondering where the pair could have gone. He rounded a corner when he heard hushed whispers coming from a distance. He moved silently, concealing himself behind a column before peeking through to see what the commotion was about. What he saw next shocked him._

_"You useless idiot! Letting that Malfoy scum overshadow you!"_

_There, by a dimly lit area of the hallway, was the cowering form of who he assumed was Theo. He watched as the older Nott beat him, hitting him anywhere else but his face. When the younger man finally fell to the floor, his father began kicking him relentlessly, muttering unintelligible things as he did._

_Blaise had no idea what to do. The resigned way Theo was acting told him this had been a regular occurrence. He swallowed, frozen on the spot. His mother never hit him, not even so much as an attempt. She was very protective of him towards her husbands, and would not allow any form of violence. He tore his eyes away from the scene. Just how long had Theo been experiencing this kind of abuse?_

_"Careful not to get the carpets stained." Came a bored drawl. "They're vintage."_

_Blaise tilted his head towards the other side of the column, searching for the source of the voice. That shade of platinum blonde hair could only belong to one person. He had one hand in his pocket, but the other held his wand._

_"What do you want, brat?" The Nott patriarch spat out._

_"I was on my way back from the loo when I heard strange grunts." Draco sighed, as if he couldn't be bothered by the entire thing. "And here I find you taking out your frustrations on him, yet again."_

_Blaise saw Draco throw a disgusted look over at Theo, scoffing in amusement as he scanned the Nott heir's crumpled form on the floor. He narrowed his eyes, confused by the gesture. In the few times he's seen them together at Hogwarts, he could have sworn they were friends. He glared at the Malfoy heir in disdain. He didn't particularly dislike him, but witnessing the way he was acting now made him loathe every fiber of his being._

_"Does it make you feel powerful? Beating your son so bad he can't even get up on his own?"_

_Blaise heard the younger blonde laugh haughtily, clearly entertained by the entire scene. It made him feel sick._

_"I'd ask my father, but– oh right… He doesn't beat the shit out of me."_

_"That's 'coz he's a weak, pathetic excuse for a man!" The Nott senior's voice thundered throughout the expanse of the hallway. It seems he was done staying quiet._

_Blaise felt a chill run down his spine at the feral look in Draco's eyes as he grinned at the livid man before him._

_"Is that a message for him? Would you like me to pass it on?"_

_Despite being a distance away, Blaise could see the stiffening of the Nott patriarch's posture. The older man began mumbling a string of words that were difficult to make out. He walked away from his son, stopping just a breath away from the Malfoy heir._

_"You best enjoy yourself while your father's on the dark lord's good graces. He won't be his right hand man for long."_

_Blaise shuddered at the revelation. Lucius Malfoy was that high up the ladder?_

_"I guess we'll just have to see about that, won't we?"_

_When the older man finally left the corridor, Blaise saw Theo struggle to get back up his feet. Draco did nothing to help, staying rooted on the spot, watching the smaller man with an unreadable expression. Blaise narrowed his eyes. Why was he just standing there? The Nott heir had been embarrassed more than enough. The least that Draco could do was to leave him alone to collect his bearings in private._

_When Theo finally made it to his feet, Blaise watched them exchange a look. He blinked, not entirely sure what he was witnessing. He saw Draco nod curtly towards the Nott heir, before he turned around to walk away. Blaise followed his silhouette until it disappeared. His mouth fell open at the realization of what just happened. Was Draco actually_ _–_ _?_

_Blaise yelp when he felt a hand grab him on the arm, another one snaking around his shoulders to cover his mouth. Just as he began to struggle, he came face to face with his mother's furious face._

_"We're going home." Her tone offered no room for argument._

_(End of flashback)_

"Zabini!"

Blaise blinked at the sound of his name. "What?"

Ginny was looking at him with poorly veiled contempt. "Just answer the question!"

He sighed, not wanting to engage in a pointless conversation like this. "Did _all_ muggle-born witches and wizards join your cause?" He watched her open her mouth to retort, but he cut her off.

"I'm thinking, _no_. So there's your answer." He took another long drag from the cigarette, relishing the burning trail it drew all the way down to his chest. His free hand pointed towards the direction of the hotel suite's door. "If there's nothing else?"

Ginny stomped through the room grabbing her stilettos and bag off the floor, grumbling to herself about how he was an insufferable asshole and that she would never get caught dead on his bed ever again.

Blaise chuckled to himself as he watched her storm out of the room, but the loud slam of the door made him flinch. He sighed again, running a hand through his face. Just what the fuck was he doing?

* * *

"And so I said to Pansy, you _have_ to take Cher! How could you not after seeing her majestic silver-blue coat, and brilliant emerald green eyes! She would have none of it, of course, but when I went over to her flat every single day, first thing in the morning, she eventually caved! Just today actually!"

Theo's chuckling died down when his gaze landed back on Draco's blank face. He was staring at the fireplace with a glass of firewhiskey in one hand, still in his grey silk pajamas. It's been a week since the incident by the floo. He had no idea what happened, but he could tell it was serious. It had to be. After all, Draco was back in a constant state of Occlumency, just as he had been right after his trial. He sighed at the sight of him drinking first thing in the morning. 

"Have you got anything to eat, Draco? I was in such a hurry to head over to Pansy's that I forgot to have breakfast."

"Tobi." Draco called out in a monotone voice.

A scrawny elf appeared out of nowhere, rubbing its hands against each other. "Ye call, Masteh 'Aco?"

Theo eyed the draped cloth on the elf's body, looking much like their Hogwarts coat uniform. It was definitely a welcome change to the old rag Tobi used to wear.

A lot of the Malfoy family elves had been brutally tortured throughout the war by death eaters and the dark lord himself, leaving most of them scarred and disfigured. Their appearances would trigger Draco's attacks, which made him demand all of them to wear clothes.

Theo sighed at the memory. It was a sight he never thought he would see – several house elves torturing themselves at the thought of disappointing their master, just because they were told to wear clothes. He could still hear Draco's earsplitting voice as he yelled at them to stop, ordering them never to hurt themselves again, before he succumbed to another panic episode. Since then, the elves never showed themselves without clothing, for fear that it would make their master faint once again.

"Theo would like some breakfast."

"O' course, wights 'way, Masteh 'Aco!" Tobi eyed his master tentatively, staying for a moment longer. "Masteh 'ike food too?"

"No, Tobi."

Theo watched the elf scan worried eyes over the Malfoy heir before it disappeared. He ran a frustrated hand over his face. "Draco, you seriously have to stop this." There was no answer. His grey eyes were still glued to the flames. "What happened? Just tell me." Still no response.

Theo started pacing the room. The last time Draco had been in this state, it took months before he finally started showing signs that he was back to being himself again. "It's Granger, isn't it?" He sighed at the silence. It was like talking to a wall.

Theo fisted his hands. If Draco wasn't going to talk to him about what happened, then he would find the one person who could.

* * *

Pansy nearly slipped down the steps of her boutique when she caught sight of one Harry Potter who was leaning against the wall of the building right across hers. She glared as he moved to cross the street, making his way over to where she stood. She stopped before she reached the last step, using the stairs as leverage to be on higher ground.

"Do I need to call my lawyers, Potter?" She challenged.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Relax, Parkinson. I'm on leave for the next two months. I'm not here on official duty."

Pansy sized him up, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do you actually think I'll believe such a stupid lie? I'm well aware of undercover missions, Potter. Don't insult my intelligence."

Harry let out a breath. Why was talking to her so frustrating? "Let me put it this way, Parkinson. You're not a person of interest. Think about it. Why would they send _me_ , of all people, to shadow _you_? You aren't important enough to warrant surveillance."

Pansy scoffed at his bluntness. "You think you're _so_ extraordinary, don't you Potter?" She rolled her eyes. "If this isn't an investigation, then what the hell are you doing in front of my shop?"

"I want you to tell me more about those things you said last time."

Pansy raised an eyebrow, knowing exactly what he meant. "Why not just ask your friends at the Ministry? I'm sure they're more than willing to bend over backwards for The Boy Who Lived." She mocked, giving him a haughty look, before she began to walk away.

"You're opening soon, am I right?"

Pansy turned around to raise an eyebrow at him. "So?"

Harry pointed towards the direction of his apartment building. "I live right there. About three blocks away." He watched her mortified expression with a grin. "I can drop by every day to say hi."

"You wouldn't." She replied through gritted teeth.

Harry shrugged, walking towards her, stopping just as his shoulder aligned with hers. He leaned a bit towards her, whispering by her ear. "Oh, I would."

Pansy huffed in annoyance, glaring at his retreating back with disdain.

* * *

After everything she's gone through, Hermione thought that nothing could surprise her anymore. But when she opened the door to her office, and came face to face with Theodore Nott holding a bag of Mcdonald's take out, she was proven wrong. The paper bag in his hand looked worse for wear. Had he been pacing outside her office for a while?

"Nott." She greeted skeptically, watching him feign a look of surprise.

"Oh, Granger! Is this your office?" He paused to scan the area around it. "I had no idea!"

Hermione pointed towards her name plate by the wall adjacent to the door, raising an eyebrow at the Slytherin pureblood.

Opening his mouth to express incredulity, Theo threw his free hand up in the air carelessly. "Now why didn't I see that?"

Hermione folded her arms across her chest, leaning against one side of the door frame. "What are you doing here?"

"Since this is such a wonderful, _totally_ unplanned, reunion…" He raised the bag full of fast food towards her. "Care to join me for lunch?"

Hermione sighed. She couldn't decide if he was clueless, or if he was just that shameless. "What do you want, Nott?" She cut to the chase.

"A chat."

"A chat." She deadpanned, looking at him oddly. 

"Uh-huh! Now let's eat before the fries get cold." Theo squeezed past her, making his way towards the couch set right across her work table.

Hermione felt her lips part at his audacity. She watched him set up the food on her coffee table, not bothering to ask for permission.

"Oh great! Soggy fries!" He grumbled, pulling a piece up to eye level, glaring at it in annoyance.

Hermione closed the door to her office wordlessly, but made no move towards him whatsoever. She tapped the wand inside the pocket of her Healer uniform for assurance as she folded her arms across her chest, waiting for an explanation.

"Relax, Granger." Theo sighed as he flopped down the black two-seater. "I'm not going to curse you."

Hermione kept her gaze on him, heading towards the identical sofa right across the one he claimed. She sat down, crossed her legs, and said nothing.

Theo swallowed, pulling slightly at his collar. "Merlin, Granger, you're making me feel like I'm in the headmistress's office." When she still didn't break her silence, Theo threw both his hands up in the air.

"Okay, fine! I'm here to talk about Draco. Happy?" He watched her release a slow sigh of annoyance.

Hermione groaned internally. This was the last thing she needed right now. She didn't know if she could be convincing enough to make the Nott heir believe that they were an item. "What about him?"

"What happened between the two of you?"

She scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. Was that his way of asking how they started dating? "Are you talking about the rumors?" She clarified.

Theo wanted to slap himself on the face. How could he have forgotten? She was under a nondisclosure agreement. She had no idea that he knew the entire thing was a farce. He released an exasperated sigh. Draco was going to _kill_ him.

"I know." He began, watching her raise a questioning brow at him. "The agreement. The contract. Everything. I know." He raised both hands in surrender when a look of unrestrained anger crossed her features. "Before you decide to turn into The Hulk! I'd like to point out that the only reason I know is because I kept hounding him about it when I saw the first few articles printed! The one about St. Mungos?"

Her rage was stunted at the mention of The Hulk. She blinked. Theodore Nott, of all people, knew about The Avengers?

"He's been acting… weird again." Theo scratched his head, careful not to divulge any information that Draco wouldn't be comfortable with. "It started a couple of days ago when he got back to his temporary settlement via floo." He paused, observing the Gryffindor's reaction. The look on her face said it all. "I checked his floo connections... and by due process of elimination, I'd say there's a huge chance he came back from your place." He watched her avoid eye contact.

"Granger, I'm not here to fight you, scold you, or blame you, alright? I want to make that clear." Theo pressed his palms against each other in a gesture of amity. "I just need to know what happened." So that I can fix it, he thought to himself.

"Why don't you just ask him?" Came her matter-of-fact tone.

"He won't talk to me." Theo let out sigh of frustration. "Look, I don't need a play by play, Granger. Just, you know, give me something to work with."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. She didn't understand what the Nott heir was after, but she had a feeling he wouldn't leave unless she gave him an answer. "There's not much to say. He invaded my privacy and I reproached him."

Theo rolled his eyes. "Gee thanks, Granger. You know, for not being _vague_ about the whole thing."

"I honestly don't see how this is any of your business, Nott."

"And yet here I am, involving myself in it." He splayed his palms out towards her. 

They stared at each other in silence.

"What did you do, Granger?" He finally asked.

Hermione huffed at the accusation. "All I did was throw his words back at him."

"What words?"

"The usual blabber he would say to me and my friends!"

"If you could just be a _little_ bit more specific, Granger?" He raised his thumb and index finger to emphasize this point.

Hermione clicked her tongue at his persistence, quickly running down a summarized list of all the things she said to Malfoy that night.

Theo froze at the mention of their old headmaster. " _Fuck_. I get he's a rightful ass, Granger. But you didn't have to go that far."

"Go that far?" She reiterated with disbelief. "May I remind you, Nott, that it was _his_ words and _his_ actions I echoed. Not mine. If you're going to blame someone, blame him."

Theo opened his mouth with every intention of arguing, but he knew it wouldn't solve anything. He could reason that Draco had been coerced – that it had all been against his will, that he was doing it to keep himself and his family alive – but that would get them nowhere. It would just be another battle of principles – a debate about morals and ethics – and that wasn't what he was here for. He took a deep breath to calm himself down.

"He does that more than you know, Granger. Trust me, he doesn't need anyone else adding to that."

"Yes, and if the dark lord were to one day rise from the dead and claim he's remorseful for all the lives he endangered, we'd _clap_ for him and _congratulate_ him for turning over a new leaf. We'd be _ecstatic_ over the fact that he's finally realized the _error_ of his ways."

Theo blinked. "Has anyone ever told you that you have an incredibly annoying sense of humor, Granger?"

"I won't mince the truth just to make others comfortable, Nott. I call things as I see them."

"Okay. Alright. I get your point." Theo ran a hand through his hair, not entirely sure how to proceed. "But he's _Draco_ , okay? Not the dark lord. I understand he's been nothing but cruel to you and-"

Hermione closed her eyes, raising a hand to stop him. "No. You _don't_ understand, Nott."

" _Yes_. I do, Granger. I grew up with the git. I knew him back when we were still in diapers. I know how much of an asshole he can be!"

" _No_. You don't." She insisted. "No matter what you say, to him you're his equal – another rich pureblood. You aren't _poor_ like the Weasleys. You're not a _half-blood_ like Harry. And you're sure as hell not _muggle-born_ like me. So Nott, please. Don't act like you understand. It's insulting." She grit her teeth. "You know, before the war began? Probably before sixth year. He had always been _my_ Voldemort. Do you know how it feels, Nott? To be mocked over things you never had any control of? To have the validity of your very existence questioned? And to eventually end up questioning your own, because others had?" She chuckled without mirth. "I guess you wouldn't. After all, it's not like you've _ever_ been bullied."

He had. Almost his entire life. By his very own father. It was then that he finally understood where she was coming from. If his father was still alive today and would go up to him offering his help, telling him he's changed, he sure as hell would run the other way. He wouldn't give him a chance. He wouldn't let him explain. He would condemn him without question.

"I'm not as bighearted as you think, Nott. Just because I took an oath as a healer and lobby for the rights of house elves, wanting magical creatures to be seen as living things with rights, doesn't mean I have it in me to just forgive someone who's tormented me for _years._ Again, it's not something I expect you to comprehend."

But he did. Probably much better than anyone else. Could he forgive his father? Could he forgive him for all the beatings he took, most of which had been for no apparent reason at all? Could he forgive him for all the emotional torment he went through? Nothing he ever did was right. No effort was ever enough.

He had been labeled a failure before he even knew what the word meant.

Theo turned his gaze to the floor. There was nothing he could say to that. It would be too much to ask that she just forget about the past and move on, because he certainly couldn't. And if anyone were to tell him otherwise, he wouldn't hesitate to send an unforgivable right at them. He sighed.

He came here with every intention of making her see Draco's perspective, but instead, it was hers that he understood.

Hermione eyed the Nott heir's silent demeanor. She didn't know what was going through his head, but a part of her could feel something akin to resignation coming from him. "Nott?" She watched him run a hand through his face.

"Yeah?"

"Are you alright?" She eyed him strangely. He had been so argumentative earlier that his sudden muteness threw her off. She saw him take a deep breath, raising both palms up towards her. 

"Okay, look. You're right. It's true that I don't exactly understand what Draco did to you, or any of your friends for that matter. So there's no point in us arguing over whether his past actions merit forgiveness or not. But I will say this…" He ran another hand through his hair; the dark locks were beyond disheveled by now. "He's… _trying,_ alright? I know it may not look like it, and that it probably doesn't mean much to you…" He looked her straight in the eye. "But, he is. He _really_ is."

Theo raised a hand gingerly to silence her when he saw her open her mouth. "Let me finish." He let out a breath. "Nothing I say will excuse his past behavior. And the last thing I want to do is invalidate what you had to go through. But…" He shrugged; his shoulders shagging low as he leaned back onto the sofa. "He's my friend."

Hermione failed to hide her surprise at the unexpected turn of his argument.

"Always has been." Theo added as an afterthought. "He's done… I haven't even-" He huffed in frustration at how difficult it was to find the words he wanted to say. "I don't even know how and where to begin to pay him back for everything he's done for me." He paused, not entirely sure what point he was trying to get across. "I just…" He let out a long slow breath. "I can't stand seeing him like this."

Hermione blinked at the Nott heir, completely taken aback by his confession. She didn't know if he was as good an actor as Malfoy was, but the way his entire posture sagged – his bloodshot eyes were down on the floor, his restless hands repeatedly running through his already messy hair – told her he wasn't lying.

"I never realized…" She paused, a bit unsure whether she should continue.

"What? That we're really friends?" Theo chuckled to himself. "After all, Slytherins are _conniving_ , _evil_ little thugs who don't have a single loyal bone in their bodies, right?" He shook his head in amusement. "Just because we have certain undesirable traits, doesn't mean we're incapable of having decent ones, Granger." He teased.

"I didn't mean it that way."

"I know. And it's not your fault." Theo raised a hand again, nodding his head to tell her he understood. "We're _all_ guilty of the same thing. I mean, Hogwarts was basically a place that _festered_ discrimination." He shrugged. "The sorting was the main culprit. Our houses told us what our nature was before we were old enough to figure it out. Slytherins were cunning but wicked. Hufflepuffs were diplomatic but timid. Ravenclaws were intelligent but inflexible, while Gryffindors were brave but impulsive. What do you think happens when children get labeled as such, and are expected to behave as such, for the next seven years of their schooling?" He shook his head in disappointment. "We barely even knew what dessert we wanted when we were 11, more so what kind of personality we were supposed to have."

Hermione gaped at Theo, astonished by his social awareness. For once, she couldn't think of a thing to say. She watched him swallow, looking uncomfortable with whatever it was he planned to divulge next.

Theo swiped a hand over his face, while the other ran through his hair yet again. One of his legs started bouncing on the floor in an attempt to soothe himself. "I ran after my father died in the battle at Hogwarts." He swallowed. "I ran to the muggle world."

Hermione blinked at the memory of Malfoy mentioning something about the Nott heir watching a play by Shakespeare. It seems he had been telling the truth.

"I was… scared they would make me take his place. So I hid there until the war ended. Until I thought it was safe."

Hermione watched him scratch at the collar of his button down shirt, before he adjusted the knot of his tie. His hands wouldn't stay still.

"I left him." His voice was quiet now, barely a whisper. "After everything he'd done for me, I just… I left him." He bent down to rest his forehead in his hand, anchoring his elbow on his thigh. "The mission… The one about Dumbledore…"

Hermione could hear his ragged breathing. She scrunched her eyebrows when he stayed unmoving for quite some time. "Nott-"

"It should've been _our_ mission."

Hermione felt goosebumps rise all over her body at the admission. She watched the hunched form of the Nott heir speechless. He looked like he was trying to make himself smaller, as if the gesture could make him disappear entirely.

"I was supposed to get the mark along with him. Just right before sixth year." He continued, ignoring the tightness in his throat. "But he got me out of it. That stupid idiot got me out." His voice had a breathy quality to it, as if he himself couldn't believe his own words.

"I had no idea the mission was… that. They never told me anything. I wasn't branded after all. I knew he was suffering that year. I could see it in his eyes… The way he was wasting away, looking like a corpse that just came back to life." Both his hands were on his head now; his back still hunched over. "But I was a _fucking_ coward. I didn't want to get involved in any of it. I didn't… I didn't want to die. So I played it safe." He let out a hollow laugh that nearly sounded like a sob. "And while he was fighting in the war, what did I do? I left him there to fend for himself." He scoffed at how pathetic he was. "I guess I really am a Slytherin, through and through."

Hermione swallowed, unable to process everything she just heard. She didn't know what to say. How could she possibly respond to a revelation like that? She heard him take a deep breath, running a hand over his face as he sat back up. His eyes looked even more bloodshot, and his skin was flushed with color.

"When the dark lord was finally defeated, I came back for him. Had to be a good friend, after all." Came his self-depreciating joke. "I went over to see him in his detention cell, while his trial was being sorted out. And do you know what he said to me the moment he saw me?"

Theo shook his head in disbelief, clenching his jaw as he met her eyes once again. _"You're alive. Good."_ He chuckled to himself, still shaking his head. "I was ready for his anger, you know? I already thought of all of the nasty things he could have thrown at me. But relief? Gratitude?" He coughed to hide the quivering in his voice, turning his head to one side as he ran a finger through one brow. "He was giving Slytherin a bad rep, I tell you! I'd expect that from any of the houses, but he was sorted in green and silver! He could have done so much better than that!" Came his poor attempt at humor.

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. This version of Malfoy that the Nott heir was painting was someone unknown to her. She couldn't bring herself to imagine him as anything but her childhood tormentor. Even now, she could still see his silhouette standing by the drawing room, watching as she was _–_ She swallowed to get rid of the lump in her throat, pushing back the memories.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

Theo blinked, genuinely surprised. She had a good point. Why was he? He folded his arms across his chest, humming to himself as if the idea just hit him. "To be honest, I have no fucking clue." He looked away in contemplation, visibly astonished. "I just realized how I single-handedly ruined my cool image in more ways than one."

Hermione couldn't help but scoff at the random, unexpected jest.

"I'm just gonna go ahead and ruin my Slytherin status once again by saying this." He cleared his throat. "I feel like… I can trust you." He said the latter part of the sentence through gritted teeth. "But just a little bit, you know? Like… 27 percent." He shrugged, grinning sheepishly.

Hermione pursed her lips to stop the amusement from showing on her face. "27 percent?" She reiterated, humored by the arbitrary number.

She never really interacted with him back at Hogwarts, but she had a vague recollection that he wasn't the type to stand out. But now, as they talked, she could tell he had a natural charm about him that was very easy to like. She scrunched her eyebrows. If he had always been this way, why wasn't he more popular and outgoing back in school?

Theo shrugged again before he let out a sigh. "Look, Granger. I'm not asking you to forget all the shit he did in the past, okay? But if you could just… give him a chance?" He had his hands out in a prayer, hoping his sincerity would get to her. "How does 27 percent sound?"

Hermione hid the small giggle that escaped her throat behind a cough. If Malfoy was incredibly good at steering the conversation, then Theodore Nott was apparently more talented at getting people comfortable. Or perhaps it was because they lacked history that's why it was easier for her to like him?

"I don't make promises I can't keep, Nott."

Theo shook his head. "Not a promise. Just… an attempt." He corrected. "An attempt to see him in a different light. He's not a _complete_ asshole, Granger. I swear! I've known him for nearly two decades now, so I'd like to think I'm pretty much an expert at deciphering Draconian language." He paused when he saw her try to fight back a laugh once again. He grinned. "I'll take your poor attempts at concealing your amusement as a 'yes'."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I gave no agreement whatsoever."

Theo shrugged, sighing to himself. "Well, I guess beggars can't be choosers."

Hermione blinked at the surreal fact that Theodore Nott just used a muggle idiom.

"I'll take what I can get. Besides, I have a feeling your bleeding Gryffindor heart will pull through!"

Hermione folded her arms across her chest to look imposing, but even she could tell she felt no animosity towards the Nott heir. Perhaps his dark hair and the green tint of his hazel eyes reminded her a little too much of Harry. His easy charm and playful nature were much like him as well. She sighed.

"Weren't you just making a point earlier about how house sorting enabled discrimination, and thus shouldn't be used as a basis to judge character?"

"Was I? Perhaps that was the _Ravenclaw_ in me." He teased, relishing in the way it entertained and annoyed her at the same time. He tapped his thighs, letting out a sigh as he stood up to his full height. "Well, I definitely took up most of your lunch break. I hope this is more than enough of an apology." He pushed the packet of fries towards her.

Hermione met the gesture halfway, pulling the now soggy potatoes towards her end of the desk. She eyed the rest of the food on the table, raising an eyebrow at Slytherin pureblood. "This is all I get?"

Theo laughed at the playful inquiry, pleasantly surprised that she finally felt somewhat comfortable enough to tease him. "You get the whole set, Granger." He gestured towards the entire table dramatically, throwing in a lively bow afterwards.

She grinned, adding a small curtsy of her own. "Why, thank you." She watched him awkwardly nod his goodbye as he headed towards the door.

"He's lucky to have you." She called out, just before he could step out of her office.

Theo's hand paused on the knob. The unexpected praise took him by surprise. He sighed, smiling sadly to himself. "It's the other way around, actually." He shut the door behind him before she could say anything else.

* * *

_Anytime is fine._

Hermione eyed the curt response Malfoy gave her. When she sent him an owl, asking to meet to talk over things, she didn't expect him to agree, nor did she anticipate such a quick response.

She was mulling over their argument a week ago after her talk with Theo earlier this day. She let out a sigh. She had to admit, albeit begrudgingly, that she may have overdone it. She swallowed down the steady build of guilt in her chest that began at the sight of him heaving at the mention of the Astronomy Tower.

She had been so angry and scared at the thought that someone had broken into her flat, and that her parents might have been in danger, that she completely redirected all her pent up frustrations at him.

He was just _so_ difficult to pin down! She never knew what to expect from him, and she couldn't get a read on him no matter how hard she tried.

Whenever he would be rude and incorrigible, she felt validated – _ah he really is an asshole, once a bigot always a bigot –_ her mind would say. But every single time he would do something decent, the alarm bells in her head would shoot up. _He's planning something. He's scheming something._ That was all she could hear. It was unfamiliar territory and it threw her off.

Hermione drew her hair up in a bun, eying the clock as she knotted her hair. It was half past eight. She turned her attention to the fireplace in contemplation. He did say anytime was fine.

Standing up to grab a handful of floo powder, she took a deep breath. There was no point in delaying this any further. She didn't want to think of him and the haunted look in his eyes any longer.

* * *

Hermione expected him to be lounging on his usual spot in the living room, but she was surprised to see the Malfoy matriarch sitting by the fireplace. They stared at each other in silent shock.

"Oh, I didn't know Draco was expecting you." Came Narcissa's apologetic tone as she stood up from the couch. "He would usually inform me in advance if you needed the space."

"I can come back another time." Hermione replied in a quiet voice, somewhat unable to meet her in the eye. The only thing running through her mind at the moment was the fact that the sister of the woman who tortured her with delight was standing right in front of her. She watched the older woman from the corner of her eyes as she knocked on the door by the end of the room.

"Draco, darling, Hermione Granger is here to see you."

Hermione gazed at her back, wondering why she was acting so calm. Wasn't she upset over the fact that her son was supposedly dating a muggle-born? Wasn't she going to yell at her to get lost and stop tainting her son with her filth? Wasn't she going to call her the derogatory term that fell so smoothly out of her son's lips?

After a few seconds, the door opened to reveal the Malfoy heir in matching gray loungewear. Hermione blinked. It was the first time she's ever seen him in anything but a suit or formal wear. As far as her memory was concerned, Malfoy didn't do casual.

"I'll leave you two alone." Narcissa sent a nod towards them, before disappearing in her room.

It was only when his mother was finally gone that she allowed her gaze to move up, landing straight onto the hollow gray eyes right across from her.

"Malfoy?" She called out his name before she realized. He looked every bit like someone under the imperius curse.

"I didn't expect you so soon." Came his flat tone as he made his way towards the couch he would always choose to sit on. "Please." He extended a hand towards the chair she usually went for.

Hermione eyed him cautiously as she made her way towards the velvet chair. Something wasn't right with him. His face was blank, his tone lack any intonations, and his movements were rigid, almost ceremonial.

"Malfoy, what's going on?" She watched him turn his head towards her.

"I beg your pardon?"

Hermione raised a hand to gesture towards the entirety of his being. "This. What is this?"

"What is what?"

"You're like a robot."

"A robot?"

Hermione closed her eyes, berating herself for using a muggle reference. "I mean, a mannequin."

"I'm not." Came his short reply. It seemed all his responses were curt.

Hermione eyed him once again, brows furrowed with alarm. "You're not acting like yourself."

"What do you mean?"

Hermione didn't know what the hell was going on with him. This was yet another side of him she hadn't seen. She fought the urge to throw her hands up in the air in aggravation. Just how many versions of him were there?

"Are you here to back out of the arrangement?" Came his blunt question.

"No."

"I'm glad."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the scripted way he sounded. It was like talking to a computer. She watched him wave his wand towards his room, opening the door to it as a piece of paper levitated towards her side of the coffee table.

"The outline for the next four dates. If you have any objections, let me know."

Hermione glanced at the parchment before her, taking it in one hand.

Neville Longbottom (Professor at Hogwarts in Herbology) and Hannah Abbot (Professor at Hogwarts in Charms)

Tracey Davis (Department of International Magical Cooperation)

Luna Lovegood (Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures)

Marcus Belby (A member of high society, Investor, Uncle Damocles Belby was the potioneer for Wolfsbane)

Hermione eyed the list of people they would 'accidentally' reveal themselves to next. She sighed as she glanced at the date, time and place attached to each of the names. How on earth he had access to information like this was beyond her.

"No objections." She finally answered, after scanning the information thrice.

"Perfect." Draco motioned a hand towards the fireplace. "Have a good evening."

Hermione tightened her hold on the paper. "Malfoy, seriously. What's wrong with you?" His eyes were on her, but his gaze was looking right through her.

"Nothing."

Placing the paper on her lap, Hermione brought her gaze down to take a deep breath. It was now or never. "Listen, I… I wanted to apologize for last week…" She swallowed awkwardly, unable to meet his eyes. "I was-"

"You don't mean that."

Hermione brought her gaze back to him, expecting him to scoff or roll his eyes, but his face was still an impassive mask. She narrowed her eyes in annoyance at the absence of a reaction. "Yes. I do."

"But it's the truth."

She blinked, surprised by his response. "What?"

"Everything you said, it was the truth."

Hermione saw something flicker in his eyes, before it was gone. His gray orbs were back to being unfeeling and cold. It was then that she realized what he'd been doing all along.

"Are you _occluding?"_

His silence was enough of an answer.

Hermione closed her eyes at the sudden onslaught of emotions she felt. They bombarded her without warning, forcing her to take a few moments to recollect herself. "Stop it." She asked quietly.

"I can't." He sounded stoic, but for some reason, she could hear the desperation in his voice. 

"Why not?" The amount of emotion in her tone made up for the lack of his.

"If I do, it'll come back."

"What will?"

"The darkness."

Hermione felt a weight on her chest as she stared at the emptiness of his gaze. He was always so animated, full of vigor and character, that it annoyed her to no end. So there was something terribly… disconcerting about seeing him this way.

She watched him stand up wordlessly as he headed back to his room, signaling the end of the discussion. She wanted to call out to him, but she couldn't find her voice. The thought of Draco Malfoy being broken stunned her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Long Author's Notes ahead… (feel free to skip)
> 
> Throughout the course of writing this story (and reading countless fanfiction), I've had a lot of realizations regarding how people perceive gender, and the roles that are traditionally assigned to it, based on culture, media influence, and probably parental rearing. I noticed how natural it is for Draco to be written as the superior of the two in terms of, well, a lot of things, and how Hermione is normally given the more passive role. It is also quite evident how easily acceptable it is for Draco to be portrayed as the more volatile/aggressive/uncaring character, whereas Hermione is depicted as the kind/forgiving/understanding one. While I have nothing against this view (creating our own spin to canon works is what makes fanfiction amazing ^^), it just dawned to me how deeply ingrained gender stereotypes are in society.
> 
> Women aren't supposed to get mad, unless they want to be labeled crazy. Men aren't supposed to cry, unless they want to be called weak or gay (as if the word is an insult -_-). Women who are argumentative, strong-willed, and straightforward, are branded as difficult; while men who are quiet, reserved, and soft-spoken are dubbed pathetic.
> 
> I think the fact that the Dramione fandom has such a huge following is also a factor to consider. We all want them to end up together, thus we tend to be more lenient when it comes to letting go of Draco's past faults, making Hermione's character into someone more accepting. But if you take a look at the original work by J.K. Rowling, Draco was, in every sense of the word, a bully. He was beyond cruel, and he genuinely enjoyed tormenting a lot of his classmates (when I read some of the things he's said in the books, I can't help but shake my head). Which is why I love the conversation and the parallelism I made with Theo and Hermione in this chapter.
> 
> Anyone who's ever faced a bully (I'd like to think we've all at least experienced an instance of it) will understand the fact that it is difficult, maybe even impossible, to forgive. And to be bullied that way throughout one's formative years, a very important stage of self-discovery, is very traumatic.
> 
> "Do you know how it feels, Nott? To be mocked over things you never had any control of? To have the validity of your very existence questioned? And to eventually end up questioning your own, because others had?"
> 
> The last question encapsulates what being abused is all about. If you hear something long enough, your psyche eventually starts believing it. The amount of repetition validates the claim, turning it into the truth, even if it isn't. It's the concept of cognitive dissonance. It's like that moment in class wherein the teacher asks a question and you know the answer; but when someone, or a group of people, answer something different, despite being initially certain, you end up second-guessing yourself. To me, Draco was the person who caused that for Hermione by calling her a mudblood out in the open, in front of everybody.
> 
> The scene I wrote in the previous chapter where Hermione threw back Draco's past actions and words at him, was a scene all too familiar to people who've experienced cruelty – it is never forgotten. Studies have proven that people tend to remember bad memories much better, and more frequently, than good ones. And in this case, I wanted to show that she hasn't forgotten (and I've always wanted to read a story where Hermione finally calls Draco out on all the shit he did, in excruciating detail).
> 
> But that isn't to say that I dislike Draco! Quite the contrary! He has all the makings of an antihero you love to hate, but can't. His character has so much potential for growth and change. How amazing would it have been if he was given a redemption arc similar to Prince Zuko from Avatar the Last Air Bender?! I can imagine this fandom breaking the internet if it that happened lol!
> 
> I told myself it was probably not wise to discuss my thought process behind the writing of this story, but I couldn't help it T.T! This author's notes ended up much longer than I had initially planned, but it made me feel more at ease after writing it. If my perspective is something you do not agree with, I respect that :) If this makes you unfollow this story, that's fine with me as well. Writing is an art, and what is art if not a form of self-expression, right?
> 
> Thank you for reading all the way to the end! Stay safe everyone, and until the next chapter ^^


	12. There You Are

"This is bad. This is really bad."

Blaise sighed at the panicking Nott heir who flooed into his flat at two in the morning, because he couldn't sleep over something stupid he kept claiming he had done. He scoffed. Like that was anything new.

"Draco's going to kill me! Merlin, Blaise. I think this might be the end for me."

Blaise eyed him nonchalantly as he stayed splayed out on his bed, not bothering to sit up for his unwanted visitor. He was tired as fuck from all the sleepless nights he's been having thanks to an annoying redhead, so this was the last thing he needed. He let out a long sigh, tuning out the Nott heir's ranting. Theo barging in on him unannounced wasn't new. But it had been a while since he was this distraught. It used to happen more frequently back when Draco had been under house arrest.

"I didn't mean to tell Granger I knew about- Well, okay I did mean to. But it was the only way! If I hadn't, it wouldn't have- I never would have known!"

Blaise turned his gaze to the ceiling in resignation. Whenever Theo would get this way, no amount of reasoning snapped him out of it. It was wiser to let him ramble on until he eventually tired himself out. He massaged his temples. That usually ranged between a couple of minutes to a few hours. He sighed. Why was he always getting dragged into their problems?

_(flashback)_

_Blaise stood by the Malfoy manor's main gate after almost a month of applying for visiting rights. He sighed. It had been a long and grueling process, but thanks to some connections and a few bribes here and there, he was finally here. An elf appeared right on cue the moment they arrived. He failed to hide his surprise at the sight of a long cloth draped across the tiny creature's body._

_"Howz iz Lef to be of serfiz?"_

_"House visit." The female auror answered. "You know the rules, elf. Bring him back here in two hours."_

_Blaise eyed the auror who escorted him to the manor. She didn't talk much – didn't even bother to introduce herself. She quickly explained the rules, took his wand, then snapped on the magical restraints on his wrist before she apparated them without warning. One look at her and anyone could tell that she would rather be anywhere else but here. She was glaring at the manor as if she wanted to put it up in flames._

_"Remember, you have two hours. Be here by then, or else. I don't want to have to look for you in that madman's fortress." She didn't wait for his reply, saying nothing more as she apparated out of the area._

_The elf offered its hand to assist Blaise to the manor. Anti-apparition wards were set throughout the expanse of its land, and only the house elves were exempt from the rules. Blaise took the tiny hand in his, feeling a familiar pull in the pit of his stomach, before he was brought to the manor's foyer._

_He let out a long sigh at the sight of familiar architecture. Just how many hours did he spend in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, filling in ridiculous amounts of paper work – most of their necessity questionable in relation to the nature of his request – just so he could get here? How many times had he been told to wait for the verdict from the head auror in charge of the case, who neither had a name or a face? He scoffed. It was practically bureaucratic red tape._

_When news of Draco's sentence just got out – one year of house arrest and one year of parole – Blaise decided to visit him despite his better judgment. That scene from the Malfoy manor kept replaying in his head, and just wouldn't give him peace. Throughout the war, he would find himself wondering about the two pureblooded heirs. What the hell were they doing? Were they dead? Still alive? Were they enjoying all the chaos? Or were they scared shitless like he was? He sighed. He didn't know why it bothered him, but it did. So much so that he felt compelled to see them now that the war was finally over. He clicked his tongue. He still couldn't find the Nott heir's whereabouts. Had he been killed during the war?_

_Blaise flinched when the sound of an explosion reached his ears. "What the-" He noticed the elf whimper at the sound. "What's going on?"_

_"Ze mazterz at it agen." The tiny elf shook its head._

_"Doing what exactly?" Blaise heard an unintelligible scream coming from somewhere in the manor. The muffled quality of the voice, and the way the walls reverberated the sound made it difficult for him to pinpoint its exact location._

_"Lef iz not kno." The elf fidgeted in its place, unsure of how to respond. "Mazter do diz efri day."_

_Blaise narrowed his eyes at the sound of something shattering, followed by a loud cry once again. "Take me to him."_

_The elf nodded, gesturing a hand towards the west side of the manor. "In ze draw-in rum."_

_Blaise followed the elf in silence, taking note of each sound he could hear. It was getting louder and clearer as they moved closer towards it._

_"Voldemort!"_

_Blaise froze at the loud echo; the sound of something smashing followed soon after. The elf guiding him towards the west wing drawing room shuddered visibly._

_"Ze las dor, on ze lef." It instructed, pointing towards the direction._

_Blaise could tell that the elf didn't want to venture out any further. He nodded his understanding as he headed towards the screams. He could tell, now that he was much closer, that it was Draco's voice resounding throughout the manor. Blaise stood by the door to the drawing room, feeling every bit anxious about what he might see on the other side._

_"Fuck!" He heard Draco curse through gritted teeth. "Motherfucking… Son of a bitch!"_

_Another loud boom._

_"Voldemort!"_

_Blaise could hear the beginning sounds of gagging now. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the double doors slowly; his eyes landing on platinum blonde hair almost instantly. He stood motionless as he watched the Malfoy heir shudder, trying to hold down the heaving of his chest. He had both his hands on his knees, and his eyes were squeezed shut._

_Blaise scanned the large expanse of the room wide-eyed. To say that it was in shambles was an understatement. The chandelier had fallen to the floor, surrounded by hundreds of its broken crystals. The charred wallpaper and the dark stains on the marble told him that the room had once been up in flames – the smell of gas still lingered in the air. Debris from the walls and floor littered the room. Everywhere his eyes went, there was something thrashed and broken into pieces, except for a few stacks of porcelain kitchenware, and a stash of vials with clear liquid stationed a few paces where Draco stood._

_He watched the Malfoy heir turn around to grab one of the tiny corked flasks off the floor, throwing it high onto a far wall. It blew up the moment it shattered – reminding Blaise of how the Exploding Charm worked. He saw Draco grab a plate next, slamming it against the floor as he yelled at the top of his lungs once again._

_"Voldemort!"_

_Blaise had no idea what the hell he was witnessing. He was stunned in place, watching the carnage before him unfold, when he felt a wand at the nape of his neck._

_"What are you doing here?"_

_Blaise raised both his arms up in surrender, showing the pair of magical restraints on his wrists. "I'm here on visiting rights granted by the Ministry." He answered curtly, slowly turning around. He blinked in surprise. "Theo?" He watched the smaller man pull the hood off his head, eying him from head to toe cautiously. His wand was still pointed right at his face, but the subtle shaking in his hand told Blaise he wasn't serious about hurting him. "How are you here? The rules only allow one visitor every month."_

_"What do you want with Draco?" Theo inquired further, ignoring the question. He tightened his hold on his wand._

_Blaise swallowed, unsure of what to say. Even he didn't know why the hell he was here. "I just wanted to talk."_

_"About?"_

_"I… I don't know. Anything!" He let out a frustrated sigh at the unexpected question. He saw the Nott heir throw him a look of utter disbelief. "Look, Theo. If I wanted to hurt him, I wouldn't be here without a wand, and with these shackles on me." He shook his hands to emphasize the matching bands on both his wrists. "I'm given two hours before an auror returns to meet me by the gates to take me back to the Ministry."_

_That statement seemed to calm the other Slytherin down. He brought his wand to his side, but kept it out in the open._

_Blaise brought his hands down, tilting his head towards the seemingly deranged Malfoy heir. "What the hell am I looking at?" He saw Theo sigh at the question._

_"It's exactly what it looks like."_

_Blaise turned his attention back to the exhausted form of Draco, narrowing his eyes in confusion. Just what was he trying to achieve by destroying the manor's west wing drawing room, and yelling out the name of the dark lord? Blaise blinked. Yelling out the name of… He felt his lips part as the realization hit him. Draco was screaming the name of he-who-must-not-be-named at the top of his lungs. The name that brought fear and dread throughout the entire wizarding world._ _A word that, for so long, had been taboo._

 _Blaise looked on speechless. Not even he dared to say it, even to this very day._ _He turned his gaze to Theo, who was silently watching the vomiting Malfoy heir._

_"Theo, how are you here?" He allowed himself to ask again._

_"I'm good with wards. Took me a few days. Had to be careful." Blaise heard him answer vaguely. "I put in a few subtle ones. Hard to detect. That's how I knew you were coming."_

_Blaise said nothing, having an inkling as to why the Nott heir needed to excel at wards. The scene with his father during the Malfoy ball flashed in his eyes._

_"If you tell anyone about-"_

_Blaise raised a hand to silence his unnecessary posturing. "Theo, that is the least of my concerns. Besides, do you honestly think the aurors would assume I'm innocent?" He scoffed, recalling his short warrantless detention after the war. "If they find you here, I'd be labeled as an accomplice. So it would be in my best interest to not get caught here with you." He saw Theo open his mouth to argue, but immediately stopped himself to run towards Draco, who was now on the floor convulsing._

_Blaise raised his hands up in the air in incredulity as he walked towards them. "Just- What the-" He was looking at the scene unfolding before him, wide-eyed and speechless. He watched Theo tipped a vial of what he assumed was calming draught down Draco's throat. After a few seconds, the seizure finally stopped._

_"Lev! Tobi!"_

_The small elves were there in an instant._

_"Take Draco back to his room." Theo instructed. "And do something about his temperature. He's burning up."_

_They were gone in the next second._

_Blaise closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. He felt his shoulders sag as his hands dropped to his sides. "Theo. Seriously. What the fuck is going on?"_

_"It's his stand." Theo replied wearily as he began to clear away the shards of glass from the kitchenware. "He said he needed to start somewhere." He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know how he ended up picking this, of all things."_

_Blaise said nothing, opting to help clear out the rest of the mess._

_"Don't." He heard Theo call out to him when he moved to fix the chandelier. "He said he wants this room to look beyond repair."_

_Blaise narrowed his eyes, confused. "Why?"_

_"Probably the same reason why he trashed his bedroom, the main dining room, and the outdoor garden." Theo replied with a shrug. "He won't tell me anything, so I can only assume."_

_Blaise stared at the other Slytherin's bloodshot eyes – the dark circles under them made him look years older than he actually was. His hair was messy and his clothes looked rumpled and unkempt._

_"I'm guessing the places he's been destroying are those that hold the worst memories for him."_

_Blaise swallowed as he looked around to inspect what was left of the drawing room. What on earth happened here that would make Draco want to erase the entirety of its existence? He turned his gaze back to the other Slytherin, who was fidgeting with the wand in his hand. His eyes were on the floor. "Why are you here, Theo?"_

_The question seemed to have surprised him. Blaise watched him blink a few times, contemplating what to reply, before his gaze went back to the floor. He shrugged._

_"I just don't want to wake up one day and find out he's killed himself."_

_(End of flashback)_

Blaise blinked the memory away when he finally noticed that the room was shrouded in silence. He eyed the back of the Nott heir who was now sitting on the foot of his bed, with his head in his hands.

"I keep trying to figure out a way to repay him, but everything I think of falls short." Theo admitted in frustration. The hands on his face muffled the sound of his voice. "He's the closest thing I have to family, Blaise. What if he won't forgive me?"

Blaise let out a long sigh. "That won't happen."

Theo whirled around to look him in the eye. "You don't know that!"

"You've done worse." Blaise rolled his eyes.

"But what if he thinks I really crossed the line this time?"

"You _always_ cross the line." Blaise scoffed. Theo was the very definition of someone who had no boundaries. The guy slipped through his flat's defenses and was on his bed at two in the morning for crying out loud! No matter how many times he tried to rekey his wards, the Nott heir would always find a way in. It drove him insane at first, but after several attempts of keeping the other Slytherin out, Blaise finally gave up. There was no winning against Theo when it came to protective enchantments.

Blaise begrudgingly sat up, scratching at the edge of one eyebrow. "Listen, Theo. I'm not going to lie, you're irritating as _fuck_. But just by being your annoying, meddling self, you've saved Draco in more ways than one." He paused when he saw the look of surprise the smaller man sent his way. "Besides, aren't you the one who always says it's easier to ask for forgiveness than permission?"

Theo blinked a few times in incredulity. "I never thought I'd live to see the day Blaise Zabini, of all people, manages to cheer me up."

Blaise rolled his eyes pointing towards the direction of the floo. "Now get the hell out of my flat."

* * *

Hermione stayed hidden in an alley, eying Luna Lovegood peruse the items inside The Astrology Shop. Finding out that the petite woman ventured into muggle London routinely was already a surprise to her; but the fact that she developed an interest towards tarot cards, horoscopes, and astrology stunned her. She couldn't understand why anyone would believe in something so nonsensical. It was a pseudoscience for crying out loud! It had no basis, no proof. It was basically a glorified form of fraud.

"She's by the counter."

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes the moment she heard Malfoy's flat tone. She could see exactly what Luna was doing, thank you very much. She didn't need him to state the obvious. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. He was leaning against the opposite wall with his hands folded across his chest. She took a deep breath to calm herself down. Talking to him nowadays was like talking to a human equivalent of an ice block. He's been polite, formal, and absolutely scripted the entire time, and it grated on her nerves beyond reason. It was getting harder and harder not to scream at him to just snap out of it.

The plan was for her to 'run into' Luna just as she leaves the shop, then have Draco follow soon after, 'accidentally' calling her by her given name. She sighed. She didn't exactly understand why they needed to keep doing all of these little public slip ups. The story about them basically had a life of its own by now. They could do nothing for the next few months, and she was sure Skeeter would still continue to draw out this ridiculous farce of theirs.

Hermione let out a breath. She was glad that the plans they were carrying out now didn't involve dates that required prolonged time in each other's company. She didn't think she could take being with this version of him all evening. She sighed again. She could still recall the look on Neville and Hannah's face when the two of them walked side by side by the window of the café the two Hogwarts professors were in. She saw Neville spit his tea back into the cup, while Hannah started choking on her croissant. Tracey Davis wasn't an exemption either. She literally ran into a wall when she saw the two of them chatting at King Cross Station, before going their separate ways. It was almost comical how extreme everyone's reactions had been. She shook her head.

Seeing Luna start to move away from the counter, Hermione walked out of the alley, crossing the street swiftly to get to the opposite sidewalk. Just as she neared the door, Luna stepped out in perfect timing.

"Oh! Hermione!" Came her pleasantly surprised tone.

"Luna, what a coincidence!" Hermione wanted to slap a hand on her face at her unnatural delivery of the line. It was a good thing that the awkwardness was warranted in this scenario. "Do you head to the muggle world often?" She asked, trying to feign distress; eyes darting around to make it seem like she was looking for someone.

"I try to go every month or every other." Luna smiled, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort. She lifted up the bag of goodies from the shop she just came from. "Did you know that muggles have quite an interesting field similar to divination?"

Hermione nodded apprehensively. "Yeah… Somewhat."

Luna laughed at the taller woman's obvious aversion towards the topic. "I see you still dislike the subject."

Hermione blinked in surprise, not entirely sure how Luna knew about that. "How did you-"

"Practically everyone in our year heard about you quitting Professor Trelawney's class, Hermione." Luna chuckled to herself. "It had been quite the topic since you were never known to dislike studying. It would have been a quick and easy addition to your OWLs too."

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "I don't take subjects _just_ to get more OWLs, Luna. I-"

"You take them because you love learning." Luna shrugged, finishing her explanation instead.

Hermione blinked at the unexpected response from the blonde, who simply shrugged once again at the expression on her face.

"I get it." She paused to point towards herself. "Ravenclaw, remember?"

Hermione gave her a small nod. Back at Hogwarts, Luna always had a strange, mystical, and often times questionable disposition. She recalled the petite girl tucking her wand behind her left ear for 'safekeeping', and that she had once chosen to wear a necklace made of Butterbeer caps. There was a time she caught her reading a magazine upside down as well. But now, she seemed more relaxed instead of floaty. The calmness in her demeanor made her come off as wiser and more mature.

Luna smiled at the silent appraisal the Gryffindor was sending her way. "So what brings you here, Her-"

"Sorry I'm late, Hermione. I was-"

Draco paused the moment Luna Lovegood turned around and met his eyes. He cleared his throat. "Lovegood. Granger." He corrected himself. His face was still blank and his tone was dull, but it fit quite well with the context they were in.

Luna gazed at the two of them back and forth, taking notice of Hermione's wide-eyed stare and Draco's blank affect. "Am I interrupting something?"

"No." They chorused almost instantly.

"I had no idea you ventured out into the muggle world, Malfoy." Luna turned to face him fully now.

He cleared his throat again. "I apologize for not having time to chat. I have somewhere I need to be." He sent them a quick nod of goodbye. "It was pleasant running into you both." Turning around, he went back towards the direction he came from.

Luna narrowed her eyes at the odd action. Why was he doubling back? She opened her mouth to question him when a hand landed on her shoulder.

"I have a few errands I need to run too, Luna. So, I hope you don't mind?"

"Alright." She agreed without argument, raising an eyebrow when she saw the Gryffindor head back exactly where she came from as well. How strange! She hummed, folding her arms across her chest. And yet people called her weird.

* * *

Ginny stepped out of the Excelsior Hotel Gallia every bit mortified for feeling so satisfied after yet another romp in the sheets with the Slytherin bane of her existence. She couldn't even bring herself to admire the interior of the beautiful five-star hotel he brought her too, because she couldn't wait to get the hell away from him.

She took a moment to calm herself by the sidewalk. Where the hell was she? She glanced at the small steel key ring in her hand. Couldn't he have picked a better item? She glared at it, knowing it wouldn't activate for another hour. She scoffed. It seems he overestimated his sexual prowess yet again. She narrowed her eyes. Or was he intentionally taking a piss at her by extending the time she had to wait after they had sex? She growled, pinching the portkey between her fingers in annoyance. Was this damn thing even legal?

Ginny headed towards a random direction, pulling the pale pink cloak she wore tighter against her body. Her eyes landed on a couple of establishments – Il Salumaio Di Montenapoleone, Biffi Boutiques Milano, Trattoria Trippa. She froze in place. Those names could only mean one thing. She was in _fucking_ Italy!

She glared at the international portkey in her hand. _Now_ she was sure the little shit was illegal! She groaned again, stomping off without a specific destination in mind. She didn't exactly agree to this… whatever it was they were doing. But she didn't technically refuse it either. She grumbled. Every time he would send her a letter with an attached portkey, she would roll her eyes, boldly claiming she wouldn't let herself get tricked again.

But now here she was, doing yet another walk of shame for the… she threw her hands up in the air. She had lost count! She groaned, tilting her head back in frustration. She seriously had to stop this. This was bad for her. _He_ was bad for her! She paused when an image of his body flashed through her mind – his broad shoulders, his toned thighs, his ripped forearms, his _motherfucking_ abs. She groaned again, throwing her hands over her face, stomping her stilettos against the concrete in frustration. Why did he have to be _so_ hot?! And he had a pretty face too! She whined loudly, cursing at no one in particular. It just wasn't fair!

* * *

Hermione eyed the clock, expecting Malfoy to arrive in a few minutes. Ever since she accidentally ran into Narcissa Malfoy a few weeks ago, she made it a point to schedule some of their meet ups over at her flat. It made her feel somewhat safer that way.

The light of the floo grabbed her attention. She sighed. Even now it still felt odd to have him standing in her living room.

Malfoy nodded in greeting, taking out an envelope from his coat pocket. "Have you checked your owls? I have it on good authority that you've been sent one as well."

Hermione moved towards the small desk by the door to her flat, showing him her invitation to Marcus Belby's birthday party on the weekend. She sighed. She's been asked to attend a lot of these after the war, but it's been a while since she actually went to one. "Wouldn't it be suspicious for me to suddenly go to a random celebration after months of not participating in any of them?"

"A lot of your coworkers are on guest list. If you go with them, there shouldn't be any issues."

Hermione glanced at the invitation once again, noting that it had been from Damocles Belby. She and Marcus weren't close, but she was well-acquainted with the Wolfsbane potioneer. He wasn't just considered a genius in the field, but was also a philanthropist who donated regularly to the ward designated for magical creatures. He was somewhat of a celebrity at St. Mungos. She sighed. Malfoy had a point. It wouldn't be that strange for her to make this gathering an exemption.

After resolving their internal family discord, the Belbys were now a clan that was slowly making a name for themselves in the wizarding world. The positive light in which they were seen could definitely help Malfoy's current state of affairs. After all, his family needed new allies.

"I'm sure you know Belby from Professor Slughorn's club? You and Weasley were in it." He paused to check her reaction, continuing when she nodded. "Blaise told me that if he were to describe Marcus, it would be that the only thing that interested him was food."

Hermione nodded. "He once ate an entire tub of ice cream, leaving the rest of us without dessert." She scrunched her nose at the memory. It was both fascinating and disgusting watching him scuffle down food.

"His father knew my mother back at Hogwarts. I'll be going in her place."

Hermione headed towards one of the sofa sets in her living room. "What's the plan this time?" She watched Draco extend a hand towards one of the upholstered chairs.

"May I?"

Hermione released a sigh at the overtly formal gesture. "You may." She replied mockingly, watching him unbutton the jacket of his suit as he sat.

"I believe a simple verbal exchange would suffice."

Hermione contemplated on things for a moment. This was the first instance they would be out in public with these many eyes on them. She could imagine at least a hundred, no, probably two hundred people in attendance. Anything flashy would seem too staged. She nodded her agreement. "We arrive separately as well."

Draco hummed his approval. "Since we can't predict how the night will go, I'll take it upon myself to find a way to get to you for a chat."

Hermione nodded wordlessly in affirmation. As the conversation fell into a lull, she took the opportunity to scan him with a discerning gaze.

"Is something the matter?" Came his formal tone.

Hermione let out a long slow breath, done with tolerating the scripted way he spoke. "When are you finally going to tire of this act, Malfoy?"

"I believe I don't understand the question."

She let out a frustrated sigh this time around. She never realized it was possible for someone to maintain such a prolonged state of Occlumency. Was that even safe? He's been a zombie for almost three weeks now, and he didn't show signs of snapping out of it anytime soon. He was acting like a poor injured puppy that willingly took in all the beating without as much as a growl.

_He does that more than enough, Granger. He doesn't need anyone else to add to it._

Hermione clicked her tongue as Theodore Nott's voice whispered through her thoughts. It wasn't her fault he couldn't handle the truth. They were his actions, his decisions, and his words! Besides, it's not like she forced him to turn his mind off. It was his choice! She let out a breath, pushing down the urge to pull at her hair in frustration. With the way he was now, she felt like _she_ was the bully. She was feeling a guilt she knew she had no business developing, and it annoyed her to no end.

_If I do, it'll come back._

_What will?_

_The darkness._

Hermione didn't know exactly what Malfoy was talking about, but she had an idea what he meant. After all, she wasn't a stranger to the nightmares. She lived in them. Dissociating wasn't a foreign concept to her as well. She did it when she needed it the most. When things got a little too… loud. A little too much. When she just needed a break from it all – wanting everything to just stop for a while. But she would pull herself back – however hard, however excruciating – even if she didn't really want to. Seeing Malfoy sitting here, looking at her with that empty look in his eyes, made her feel an anger she couldn't quite explain.

"I expected more from you, Malfoy. You're a whiner, but you were never a quitter. This." She paused to gesture at him. "This is giving up. You're taking the easy way out." She held her breath when she saw something flicker in his eyes; but it was gone as soon as she noticed.

"I don't see how any of this affects you. We're making progress without any issues."

"Do you think if you bury things long enough, they'll eventually disappear? Removing your emotions, shelving your memories – what does that achieve? They're still _there_. There's no other way but to face them, Malfoy." She watched him blink at her. He was still emotionless, but for some reason, Hermione could feel something shifting within him.

"You don't see me telling you how to handle the disappointment from your research, do you?" He paused. If the surprise on her face affected him, he showed no indication. "So don't tell me how to deal with _my_ feelings."

Hermione blinked. There was a small intonation in his voice in that instance. One she hasn't heard in quite some time now. She felt her heart start to pound against her chest. He was in there, somewhere – floating just a few inches below the surface. She saw him stand, no doubt to move towards the floo and leave.

"I really don't see why you're cutting yourself short now." She stalked towards him, blocking him before he could reach the floo. She stood barely an arm's length away, standing in front of his only manner of escape. "Nothing ever stopped you before." She crossed her arms and looked him straight in the eye.

"Do you want to take another trip down memory lane?"

Hermione wanted to scoff at how easily her mind filled in the missing character in his voice – the haughty tone was ringing in her ear. "That's not what I want." She shook her head, never once breaking eye contact.

"Then what do you want, Granger?"

Hermione couldn't understand why, despite the planeness of his tone, she could hear the challenge in it – taunting her, edging her on. He finally called her by her name outside of their scripted displays. She could tell that he was slipping slowly, fluctuating back and forth between feeling and apathy. She could feel the exhilaration slowly building up her chest. It was the familiar sensation of being at the cusp of an answer – nearing the rear end of a case. "I want you to stop running away." She ordered him.

He moved to bypass her, but she caught his arm before he could. There was no way she would let him walk out now. She stepped closer, invading his space daringly. "Coward." She whispered right to his face.

Hermione couldn't help but look on in fascination when she saw him take in a deep breath; his eyes widening just barely. ' _Come on. Just like that. Just a little bit more.'_ She could hear her mind chanting.

"You're one to talk." He countered as he leaned down towards her, almost just a breath away. "At least I'm not a lifeless doll."

Hermione looked at him with a stunned gaze that quickly morphed into a steady, simmering anger. "I'd take being mindless for a day, over losing what makes me myself, for months on end." When he didn't say anything else, she continued to push. "Does it hurt, Malfoy?" She looked down on his chest, bringing a hand over his heart. The feel of it pounding against her palm gave her a sense of power unlike anything she's felt before. She looked back at him. "Are you sad? Guilty?"

Hermoine's gaze dropped down to his lips when she saw him clench his jaw. She was captivated by all the steady shifts that was happening to him – all the little slip ups in his expression that reminded her of how he used to be. "Am I making you angry, Malfoy?" Her voice was just above a whisper; her eyes back on his grey ones that were starting to look cloudy. She couldn't help but bring a hand up the side of his face; the back of her fingers stopping at the corner of his tight jaw. She followed the movement with her eyes, entranced by way the touch made the expression on his face tighten even further.

"Come on." She pressed on. "Let it out." She felt him try to move his head away, but she cupped his chin in one hand to still him. She let go of his arm, and brought her palm against the back of his neck, bringing his gaze down lower so it leveled with hers. "You know you want to, Malfoy." She saw the shift in his eyes. They weren't blank any longer. "You hate me, don't you? Can't stand the sight of me, can you?" She moved her fingers off his jaw, moving them slowly over his lips. She pulled lightly at the bottom, dropping her gaze down to eye his now open mouth. "Go on. Why not call me that word?"

Hermione felt her breath hitch when her eyes met his once again. They were back to life – stormy, intense, full of emotion. He was breathing heavily now, through his parted lips. Hermione brought her hands at the sides of his face. "Say it." She whispered, right into his mouth, glancing at the way his lips moved as he breathed. _"Say_ it." She stared at his blown eyes, enraptured by their darkness. "Mudblood."

Draco wrenched himself out of her hold, nearly falling over as he bumped onto the living room couch. Her mention of the derogatory slur startled him back to life. He stared in shock at the stunned expression on her face that slowly morphed into a smile full of glee and wonder. He heard her let out a breath that sounded like the beginning of a laugh.

"There you are."

Draco had no idea what just happened, but she was acting in a way that he's never seen before. This version of her scared and exhilarated him both at the same time, and he didn't know why. But between the feeling of utter panic in his chest, and the genuine look of relief she was sending his way, the only thing he could think of was to run.

Grabbing a handful of floo powder, he was gone before she could get in another word.

* * *

Harry let out a breath as he continued to stand across the boutique he'd been quite familiar with in the past two weeks. Parkinson made it a point to come in at odd hours, making it difficult for him to catch her. He leaned his head back against the brick wall, sighing out loud in frustration. He just wanted to know what she was insinuating about the Ministry and its inner workings postwar. Why wouldn't she just humor him?

Harry pushed himself off the wall when a familiar limo came into sight. But instead of pulling over the building across, it stopped right in front of where he stood. He blinked as a chauffeur stepped out, bowing to him curtly as he opened the door. Harry waited for the snooty Slytherin to make an appearance, but when she didn't come out, he turned his attention towards the old man holding the door for him.

"Excuse-"

"Get in loser! You're treating me to lunch."

Harry released a long sigh at the voice that echoed from inside the limousine. That annoying tone, and the slightly nasal quality it had to it, could only belong to one person. He took a deep breath to brace himself, before he climbed in through the door. "Where are we going?" He asked the moment he settled onto the plush camel couch.

"La Tour d'Argent." Pansy answered immediately, not bothering to look up from her phone, typing against it incessantly. "My time is priceless, Potter. So if you're going to use it up, I might as well get my money's worth."

"Is that restaurant any good?"

His audacity to question her taste made her look up at him. Harry wanted to roll his eyes at the fact that she was wearing sunglasses _inside_ a limousine with tinted black windows. He watched her tilt the accessory a little down her nose, throwing him a look that was probably similar to what she would send a cockroach.

"If you must know, La Tour d'Argent dates back to the 16th century and was said to be the favorite of muggle royalty." She pushed the dark shades back up her eyes. "It's one of the few restaurants that I allow myself to be a repeat customer in. So yes, Potter. It's _that_ good." She paused to eye him from head to toe, letting out a sound of disgust as she waved a hand at his outfit. "Be glad the establishment is lenient with fashion faux pas."

Pansy turned her attention back to her phone. Ever since he started hounding her at the boutique, her staff wouldn't stop with their incessant questioning. She snorted. As if she would date someone who wore _fleece._ It was such an unflaterring garment she wondered why anyone with a sane mind would wear it.

Harry glanced down at his outfit, trying to figure out what was wrong with it. He was wearing dark jeans, a plain white shirt, black trainers, a black fleece hoodie, and a red and black checkered flannel coat. He narrowed his eyes. It looked fine to him.

Before he could respond, a call rang from another phone inside the Slytherin's tote bag. He watched her fish for it, sliding the electronic device open, before answering it with her classic snobbish tone. He shook his head. She looked so natural living like a muggle that if he hadn't seen her back at Hogwarts, he wouldn't have been able to tell.

Harry tuned out her voice, opting to glance at the scenery by the window. This was the first time he's ever ridden a limo! He wanted to open the sunroof to enjoy the fresh air, but something told him he'd never hear the end of it from the stuck-up woman sitting across from him. He sighed. What a wasted opportunity.

They arrived at the restaurant after a few more minutes. They were seated almost immediately, and served complimentary bread and cheese. Harry was in awe of the entire place, until one look at the menu made his eyes pop out.

Sensing his shock, Pansy smirked at him condescendingly. "What's the matter, Potter? Can't afford it?" She sighed, eying her perfectly manicured nails. "I guess I could offer to-" She laughed out loud before she could even finish the sentence, amusing herself with the inside joke. "Who am I kidding?" Her smile disappeared instantaneously. "There's a price for everything, Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes. It wasn't that he couldn't afford it. It was just an impractical choice for a meal that wasn't in celebration for anything. Just because he had a bit of money to spare didn't mean he would allow himself to waste it.

"I don't mind paying, Parkinson. Just make sure you stay true to your end of the deal."

Pansy splayed her palms out towards him, before she clapped them back together. "Ask away."

Harry shrugged offhandedly. "I was hoping you could give me a narrative."

"Fine." Pansy rolled her eyes, letting out a sigh. This was going to take much longer than she anticipated. "After the war, your Ministry created a special division within the Auror's Department. They have no official name, but for the sake of being poetic, we refer to them as _snatchers_." Pansy paused to smirk at the stunned Gryffindor sitting across from her. "I believe you're familiar with the term?"

Harry nodded wordlessly, unsure of how to respond.

"But alas, instead of rounding up muggle-borns and blood traitors, they rounded up _purebloods_." Pansy chuckled to herself at the hilarious irony of it all. "It didn't matter whether you had the mark or not. If you were a pureblood, you were condemned to undergo an _invasive, warrantless_ detention that would try to distinguish your allegiances."

Pansy paused when the first course of their meal arrived. Grabbing the silverware, she started shredding through her salad as she continued her recount of events. "I was lucky enough to make it out in just one day." She rolled her eyes, shoving a piece of lettuce into her mouth gracefully. "There was nothing in my answers they could use to incriminate me further." She bit a piece of cheese off her fork this time around. "We were doused with Veritaserum, by the way. Just want to make that clear."

Harry couldn't bring himself to eat. "That's…"

"Impossible? Not true? A complete and utter lie?" Pansy tried to fill in the sentence based on the look of incredulity the Golden Boy was sending her way. "It's up to you what you want to believe, Potter. I'm just doing what you asked." She shrugged. "You said you wanted to know."

When he didn't say anything further, Pansy resumed her storytelling. "Like I said, I was lucky enough to make it out in a day. Others weren't." She paused, tapping the edge of the knife she held on her bottom lip. "Theo and Blaise were held for a couple of days, if I'm not mistaken. Daphne and Astoria as well. I heard through the grapevine that there were others who were put through Legilimency." She shrugged again, resting her hands on the table, turning her cutlery outwards. "I don't have all the details, Potter. We don't exactly talk about it."

"Why didn't you complain? File a case? Report it to the-"

"Complain to the institution that ran the operation?" Pansy laughed heartily at his naivety, grabbing the napkin by the table to dab the tears that formed at the corner of her eyes. "Gryffindors!" She tapped a hand on the table, shaking her head at the hilarity of it all. "Potter, no one would believe a pureblood complaining about _discrimination_ and _assault,_ just after a war that resulted in the genocide of muggle-borns." She chuckled again. "For the record, those were the words of the masked auror who cleared me for release."

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Pansy smiled condescendingly at the speechless Golden Boy who had looked so fearless earlier. "Your cause doesn't look so bright and shiny now, does it?"

* * *

Draco eyed the letter Granger sent him last night, inquiring whether they would go through with the run in at Belby's party. His gut told him no, but his rationality told him yes. And he had always been a logical man, so he went for the reasonable choice. After all, he still had a goal to achieve.

He ran a hand through his gelled hair one more time, eying his reflection on the mirror. After that whole thing back at Granger's flat a couple of days ago, he'd been disoriented, jumpy, and confused over a lot of things. But what stuck to him the most was the feeling of being forcefully pulled out from within himself. It was as if Granger had stuck a hand in his mind, then dragged him out of it by the throat. It shocked him how easily she had done it as well. It was a state he developed by accident postwar. No one he knew had been capable of snapping him out of it, until now. Perhaps his aunt would have-

Draco took a deep breath, shuddering as he held it in for a few moments. He exhaled it out as slowly as he could. He did it a few more times until he calmed down. Now was not the time to think about her. Out of everything he wanted obliviated from his mind, it was memories of her that he wanted gone the most.

He closed his eyes, taking in one more deep breath, before he went back to his room. He eyed the invitation he needed to bring, stuffing it in the inside pocket of his suit, before his eyes landed on the letter it came along with. It was from Mr. Belby addressed to his mother. He could tell by the words that the older man had a certain affection towards her in their youth, and wanted to extend courtesy towards their family during these trying times.

Draco sighed. This was his first time going to a party after his sentence, and the first one the Malfoys have been invited to after the war. He could only imagine what kind of reaction he would get from the guests. He sighed again. There was no point in worrying about it now.

Stepping out of his room, he came face to face with his mother who stood by his door, poised to knock. She looked at him in surprise as her eyes roved across his face.

"What is it, mother? Did you need anything?" He watched as she wordlessly cupped his cheeks in her hands.

"You're back." Narcissa whispered in relief, caressing him adoringly as she stared at the light in his eyes. "I was worried sick. You were just–"

Draco pulled his mother's hands off his face with a sigh. "I'm fine mother. Nothing you should concern yourself with." He walked away to head to the floo.

Narcissa watched his retreating back in silence. Ever since they started living together again after her year in Azkaban, something in Draco changed. She didn't know what it was, but he was different. The drinking was one thing, but even when he was sober, he wasn't like how he used to be. He was colder, always irritable. He didn't take his meals with her, and would only interact with her if necessary – keeping things short and transactional. There were times she felt he would go out of his way to avoid running into her. It was as if he couldn't stand seeing her; let alone be touched by her.

She didn't know what happened in the year he'd been alone on house arrest, but she could tell it affected him greatly. She watched him disappear in green flames, hoping he wouldn't run into anyone who would antagonize him at the party.

* * *

"I'm really glad you came, son."

Draco nodded at the older Belby, who clapped a hand over his shoulder. The roundness of the robust man's face seemed to get even plumper with the smile he adorned. Draco didn't understand why, but he could feel a strange sincerity from the old man he's never met before.

"If there's anything you need, anything at all." Draco felt a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. "You let me know, okay?"

Draco muttered his thanks, unsure of what the Belby patriarch was playing at. Why was he being so nice to him? It's not like he or his family's ever done anything for him. It wasn't like they've known each other all his life either. He was basically a stranger who had no business throwing a bone at him. He fought the urge to narrow his eyes at him condescendingly. He heard the older man laugh.

"I see you don't trust me!"

Draco failed to hide the surprise on his face. Perhaps he hadn't been able to conceal the suspicion in his gaze earlier. He cursed inwardly. It was so much harder trying to control his expressions after being in a constant state of Occlumency.

Mr. Belby took his hand off the younger man's shoulder, tucking it into the pocket of his slacks. "I can only imagine what you've been through, my boy. It's natural for you suspect everyone and trust only yourself." He sighed. It was not the life a young lad like him should be living.

Draco looked away from the old man. There was pity in his eyes, but also a strange sort of kindness he wasn't used to seeing directed at him. He didn't know what to make of it, and he didn't know how to respond.

Mr. Belby sighed at the sight of the young Malfoy heir before him. He looked so lonely standing by the corner of the ballroom, doing his best to avoid everyone, that he couldn't help but want to make him feel a bit more comfortable.

"Well…" Mr. Belby clapped a hand over his protruding belly. "Help yourself with the rest of the food. I heard the treacle tart is particularly scrumptious!"

Draco nodded. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate the hospitality."

The Belby patriarch grinned at the Malfoy heir, glad that the guarded look on his face had somewhat softened. He gave him two quick pats on the head that seemed to stun the younger man, who tilted himself away from the gesture. He laughed at the dubious look on the blonde's face.

"Relax, Draco!" The older man teased as he chuckled heartily. "I hope you enjoy the rest of the evening!"

Draco glared at the back of the robust Belby patriarch, clicking his tongue as he ran a hand through his hair. Who the hell pats someone on the head out of the blue? And he was almost an entire foot taller than the man! He grumbled to himself.

Realizing he's stayed for half an hour now, he decided it was high time he made his move. Scanning the ballroom, he saw Granger standing by the wine table, chatting with Percy Weasley, of all people. He had been named the head of the Department of Magical Transportation a year ago by Kingsley himself. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. Now he would have to bide his time. All he needed was a couple of seconds with her. People just had to see them chatting amicably, so he could finally take his leave.

Draco perked up instantly at the sight of the older Weasley getting called over by a group of people, excusing himself away from Granger. He immediately made his way to the wine table to refill his goblet.

"Granger." He called out in greeting, not bothering to glance at her as he replaced his old glass with a new one.

"Malfoy." She nodded, tipping her head towards him.

He turned to eye her, still a few feet away. "I didn't know you and Marcus were close." He began to shorten the distance between them, stopping about an arm's length away.

"We aren't. Although, we were in Professor Slughorn's club for a while." Hermione shrugged. "The invitation had been from his uncle, actually."

Draco placed his free hand in the pocket of his slacks, beginning to feel several sets of eyes on them. "You know the potioneer of Wolfsbane?" He asked impressed.

"He's a philanthropist well-associated with St. Mungos." She answered matter-of-factly.

Draco nodded at the information. "I see."

Hermione eyed the slightly defensive stance he employed as he stood next to her. She wanted to scoff at the distance he put between the two of them. He didn't need to stand _that_ far. Was he being careful not to give people too much, or was he actually cautious towards her?

Hermione took a sip of her wine to hide her discomfort. After he left her flat, the realization of what she had just done stunned her. She didn't know what came over her! It began with her intense aggravation towards the entirety of his disposition that grew into something else she couldn't quite explain. When she was seeing him slowly give in, slowly break, she kept wanting to push and push. She had been so focused on succeeding that she didn't notice they had been so close to… She swallowed. Nope. She would not go there.

"What about you? Are you and Marcus well-acquainted?" She asked, continuing their small talk.

Draco shook his head. "His father and my mother were… friends."

Hermione turned her head to raise an eyebrow at the potentially scandalous statement. "Friends?" She reiterated. She watched Draco keep his gaze on the crowd; eyes on anything else but her. He shrugged, drinking a huge portion of wine from his glass.

"He was quite taken with her in their youth."

"Ah. I see." Hermione nodded, tilting the goblet against her lips for another sip as well. She could feel a strange, palpable tension between them that was… awkward. It was different from the charged suspicion both of them were sending each other when they first started this arrangement. This time it was… It was just weird.

"Ms. Granger! I'm so glad you could come!"

Both of them glanced at the tall lean man who sauntered towards them with a charm that even Draco had to admit was quite fetching.

"Mr. Damocles!" Hermione greeted as she watched him take her hand in his, placing a chaste kiss over her fingers. She smiled at the gesture, feeling her cheeks warm in the process. Damocles Belby was a man nearing his fifties, but even then, he had a timeless magnetism that was hard to resist. He was the very definition of a silver fox.

"And the young Mr. Malfoy!" He called out, offering a hand towards the blonde who looked every bit surprised at the acknowledgement.

Draco reached out to shake the older man's hand. "Please, Mr. Belby. Just Draco is fine."

"Then call me Damocles! No mister, please!" He grinned, gesturing towards Hermione. "This one keeps calling me mister. Every single time it makes me feel like I've aged ten years!" He chuckled.

Draco nodded curtly at the request. "Damocles it is."

The Wolfsbane potioneer looked pleased as he clapped a hand against the younger man's shoulder; pointing towards him as he nodded. "I like you, Draco! See?" He glanced back at Hermione with a lopsided smile. "It's not that hard!"

"Mr. Damocles, as an important figure at-"

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" He raised a hand to stop her. "None of that business talk! No talking about work. We're at a party, Hermione." He placed his hands on her shoulders, shaking her playfully. "Relax!"

Draco couldn't help but compare both Belby men. This one was loud, somewhat vain, and had a domineering side to him. The other one was calm, soft-spoken, and down to earth. He let out a sigh. They couldn't be more different.

"Now, before someone else steals you away, I would very much appreciate the honor of having a dance with the one and only Hermione Granger."

Draco fought the urge to roll his eyes at the exaggerated bow the older man offered her. Granger was more than half his age for Merlin's sake, and yet here he was flirting with her as if he didn't have a full head of grey hair.

Hermione chuckled at the gesture, accepting the hand the older man offered her. "Always so dramatic, Mr. Damocles."

"Well, I-"

"Uncle Damocles!"

All three of them turned their attention towards Marcus, who was quite a distance away.

"Look who came to see you!" The younger Belby called out.

Draco watched the older man's eyes widen at whoever it was standing beside the Belby heir. He watched him turn his gaze to Hermione, then back at Marcus.

"It's fine, Mr. Damocles! Go ahead." Hermione reassured, taking her hand out of the potioneer's grasp. She placed it on his shoulder, nudging him towards whoever it was he looked so thrilled to see.

Draco finally allowed himself to roll his eyes at the older man's obvious indecision, hiding his scoff behind his wineglass.

In one quick motion, Damocles took Hermione's hand back in his, before he grabbed Draco's free one in the other. "If you would be so kind, Draco?" His tone was apologetic, but imperative. "I leave Ms. Granger's dance to you!" He brought their hands together before either of them could reply.

He was gone in the next second.

Hermione and Draco stared at their intertwined hands, before glancing back at each other wide-eyed at the unexpected turn of events. They could hear the buzz of spectators who saw the entire thing unfold.

Swallowing, Draco put his glass down, nodding a quiet inquiry towards her. He watched her put down her wine, mirroring his gesture, as she nodded her acceptance. There was no way either of them could get out of this situation now.

Draco tried his best to ignore the stares and whispers as he guided her to the ballroom. He could feel his skin prick at the sheer amount of attention on them. He closed his eyes for a moment, cursing the silver fox in his head, wishing he'd go bald.

Draco took a deep breath as he positioned himself on the dance floor, offering her his hand. As she stepped into his hold, it was only then that he finally took notice of her. He had been so edgy the whole time that nothing quite registered to him.

She was wearing a strapless dark purple dress that hugged her waist, before spilling out into layers and various shades down her body. Every time she moved, the fabric reminded him of the ocean at twilight.

The previous number ended, leaving both of them in each other's hold, waiting for the music to begin. Draco allowed his eyes to scan her face. Her hair was up, leaving a few curls running down the sides of her temples. Her make-up was done to make her eyes stand out, intensifying the power of her gaze. He looked away, wishing for the band to finally start playing.

Hermione glanced at the way his eyes were avoiding her. She could tell that neither of them were comfortable in this situation, and to say that this was not part of the plan was a gross understatement. She took a moment to eye the way his hair had been sleeked back all the way to the nape of his neck. It looked just like the style he used to wear back when they were 11. She snorted in amusement.

"What?"

She raised an eyebrow at the cautious look he threw at her. "Nothing." She watched him look away again.

The music finally began to play. She could feel him gently lead her through the waltz, occasionally catching him glancing at her, before he would look away. This was the second time they danced. The first had been back at Slither In. She rolled her eyes, still annoyed with the atrocious name. Back then, she could feel him dragging her to match his pace, and it annoyed her incessantly. This time though, it felt like they were moving in unison. He would nudge her slightly when they would change their course, but other than that, he let her be.

Hermione continued to eye him discerningly, wondering just what was going through his head. Even now, after snapping out of his Occlumency, she still couldn't read him. Every time she felt like she finally got a handle on him, he would change entirely. Dealing with him was like playing a game on hard mode. He was like a puzzle within puzzles that was begging to be solved.

Hermione looked away in mortification. This was bad. This was _very_ bad. She was starting to get curious about Draco Malfoy. And if there was one thing she knew about herself, it was her obsessive compulsive need to satisfy her curiosities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this addition as much as I did^^ Once again, thank you for reading! Constructive criticism and reviews are appreciated :)


	13. Best Actor

Draco eyed the floo, anxious about whatever it was that Granger wanted to talk about. Her letter was curt and vague and it made him want to pull at his hair. The party at the Belby's happened just two days ago. They had more than enough time to plan their next move. What exactly was it that she needed to discuss so quickly?

The green light caught him off guard, forcing him to shut his eyes at the sudden onslaught of brightness. He'd been so preoccupied with trying to figure out the workings of her mind that he'd failed to keep track of the time.

Hermione raised a brow at his blinking form. "Malfoy." 

Draco brought a hand over his face, massaging his eyelids in an attempt to rid them of the ache. "Granger." He could hear her settle down onto one of the velvet chairs, not bothering with any further pleasantries. It unnerved him how familiar that gesture came across, as if this was a place she actually felt at home in.

She scrunched her nose in disgust when she caught a strong whiff of firewhiskey, swallowing down the admonishment at the tip of her tongue. That was not was she came here to talk about. "I'll be frank." Came her firm tone. "I want to outline how long we need to keep up this farce. I need something more concrete."

Draco blinked, completely caught off guard by her declaration. "I beg your pardon?"

"I didn't think it mattered that much in the contract, because it was stated that your manor would be held for around 90 days, give or take. But at the rate things are going, it may be _much_ longer than either of us can predict." Hermione folded her arms across her chest.

The timeline had been something he refused to amend despite all her attempts to make it more tangible. It was a transactional exchange, he insisted – his manor for her money. It was naïve of her to let go of that one detail. It's been over three months since they started this arrangement, and there was still no word about his manor's return.

Draco couldn't help but scoff. It wasn't his fault that the Ministry's power tripping bureaucrats were after his family. "I don't think I need to remind you that the contract stands _until_ I get my manor back."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "You're not wrong. But there _is_ a clause in the contract wherein I could back out at any time."

Draco crossed his arms, sending her a gaze that bore a silent threat. "So I'm guessing you have 250,000 galleons in your disposal to compensate me for the termination?"

"No."

Draco narrowed his eyes at her offhanded reply. "Then-"

"But the contract doesn't explicitly state that I have to pay the amount in full upon dissolution, does it?"

Draco blinked at the challenging smirk she sent his way. What was she talking about? He summoned the stack of papers to his table, scanning through it hastily to get to the paragraph defining the consequences for abrupt cessation. He read through it quickly before closing his eyes shut, letting a hundred curses fly through his mind silently.

She was right.

He _hadn't_ indicated outright that the entire amount be paid, effective _immediately_. He was careless! How could he have made such a novice mistake? Granger could practically take her sweet time reimbursing that debt! He groaned, blaming his upbringing. There was never an issue about paying things in whole. It was something that just came so natural to him – deeply ingrained, inherent.

"As you can see, there is nothing there that proclaims I have to return everything in one go."

He glared at the superior look she sent his way. It was like Hogwarts all over again, when the test results came out and she would find that she bested him at something for the umpteenth time.

Hermione let out a sigh at the poorly veiled look of indignation he was sending her way. "I can't keep my entire life on hold for this, Malfoy. I need to know when this will end exactly."

"Don't you think I want that as well?"

Hermione said nothing as they stared at one another, neither willing to back down. She could see a mixture of anger, panic, and… was that desperation? She still wasn't quite used to seeing him so animated again, but she couldn't deny the fact that he made her curious now. She looked away. She didn't like that she was naturally starting to analyze him just for the sake of doing so.

"What do you want, Granger?"

She took a deep breath, gazing back at him in resolution. "A clearly defined timeline."

"Fine. A year."

Hermione didn't even have it in her to mockingly laugh at his statement. She could tell by the look on his face that he was utterly serious. "No! Three. Months." She paused to emphasize her offer. After all, his manor's confiscation was supposedly 90 days. Besides, she already spent the past three months rumored to be allegedly dating him.

Draco was absolutely incredulous. "Are you bloody-? _Three_ months?! How conspicuous can you get?" He watched her roll her eyes, chucking a hand in the air randomly.

"Fine! _Four_."

Draco scoffed – half in amusement, half in disbelief – at her audacity. "How very charitable of you Granger. I feel so special." He brought a hand over his heart, nodding his head patronizingly. " _Eleven_." He spat through gritted teeth.

Hermione couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Really, Malfoy? Are you really going down one month at a time?" She bent towards him, eyes boring into his unyielding. "Four. Months."

"Ten."

" _Four_." She watched him run a hand through his hair in frustration, nostrils flaring as he huffed and sneered at her. She pursed her lips to hide the amusement she felt at seeing him so blatantly aggravated. It was almost as if his emotions were pouring out of him in waves after denying himself of them for so long.

"Damn it Granger! Why can't-" He felt his lips part at the expression on her face. Was she _seriously_ trying not to laugh? What about this situation was funny? He wanted to slap the contract across her face just to wipe off that look.

"Four. Take it or leave it."

He ground his teeth. There was no way he backing out of this argument. "Ten. Months."

Hermione shook her head obstinately. "That's too long, Malfoy."

"No one is going to believe we were serious if we dated that shortly!"

Hermione stayed silent, sizing him up as she scanned him from head to toe. She could tell the gesture irked him, but she knew that the negotiations were tipped towards her favor. He could argue all he wanted and get pissed at her all day, but they both knew that no matter what she would offer, he would have no choice but to accept. After all, he needed this arrangement more than she did. She was risking half of her research funding for this, and the possibility of a lifetime of debt, but she was more than confident things would go her way.

"Final offer." She began, noticing the way his eyebrows rose in surprise and panic. "Four months. Either that, or this ends."

Draco glared at her, not bothering to stifle the growing rage he felt towards her. He could tell by the way she acted that she knew he couldn't resist. He had no choice in this matter at all. If she walked away now, before they could even 'solidify' their relationship to the public, everything that he worked so hard for would have been for nothing.

He swallowed his overwhelming anger, chipping it away bit by bit – one incensed fragment at a time. He needed to think.

Hermione could see the telltale signs of occlusion in his eyes. She watched his face gradually turn blank, all emotion snuffed out as if they were never there to begin with.

"If you want to define things, then I suggest we resort to concretizing the number of dates."

She blinked. His face was void of any expression, but his voice wasn't as flat as it had been before. It seemed he was still there.

"Instead of four months, twenty dates." She heard him say.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She had to admit, it was clever of him to count things down through dates instead of months. That way he could prolong their arrangement by delaying their meetups. She folded her arms across her chest.

"Sixteen." She insisted. She saw his eye twitch at her response, amused that he wasn't completely impassive. "A date each week for four months amounts to sixteen, does it not?" She watched him let out a slow breath, no doubt to calm himself down.

"Sixteen." He finally says.

Hermione watched him amend the contract, eying his writing to make sure that he would stay true to their agreement. Her eyes eventually moved to examine his blank face. Just sixteen more dates and she could finally rid herself of her bizarre, morbid fascination towards Draco Malfoy.

* * *

"Date one out of sixteen." Hermione whispered to herself as she stepped out of the Ministry, fingering the newly issued portkey in her cloak pocket. She sighed. She needed to round up more things for the next fundraiser. Her parents were beginning to doubt the validity of the items she was bringing – most of them looking completely new and unused. It was supposed to be a garage sale after all. But she had neither the time nor the energy to look for secondhand items that could be sold at the event.

A mop of platinum blond hair by a food cart made her sigh again. This time, the plan was to run into each other at one of the stands outside the ministry. Malfoy would be there under the pretense of following up on the state of his manor, while she was there for her monthly portkeys to Australia.

"Malfoy." She greeted with a nod. She watched him turn to look at her in surprise. She fought the urge to roll her eyes at his commitment to the role. He really should be an actor.

"Granger, fancy meeting you here."

Hermione smiled tightly at the vendor who was looking at them with a grin. It seems he read the news too. "One hot latte please. Two cubes of sugar."

"Right away, Miss Granger."

Hermione blinked at the old man's referral towards her. It was always weird to have strangers acknowledge her as if they've been longtime acquaintances.

"And if I may say, it's an honor to meet you." He added, grabbing the worn-down hat off his head, revealing a bald patch in the middle of his hair. He bowed at her in reverence.

Hermione blinked again, not exactly knowing how to respond. It wasn't often that she would get this kind of sincere, straightforward admiration. She could tell that the old man genuinely respected her for who she was, and not who she knew. It was... nice. She smiled at him, nodding her head in thanks. "I'm flattered, Mr. Luke." She eyed the metal engraving pinned on his clothes.

"Oh, just Luke is fine, Miss Granger!"

Draco raised an amused eyebrow at the blush on the merchant's face, before he turned to look at the polite smile Granger donned. He chuckled to himself. It seemed she was the type to attract older men. He wanted to tease her about his newfound observation, but that would be counterintuitive to what they were trying to achieve.

"What brings you here?" He finally asks her.

"Some errands." She answered vaguely, eying the paper cup of steaming coffee in his hand. She wanted to laugh at how out of place the item was on his person. A three-piece suit, perfectly coifed hair, and Dragonhide boots certainly didn't fit the image of someone who would stand by a food cart. "And you?"

"Trying my best to cut the bureaucratic red tape off my manor." He took a sip from his cup, trying his best not to scrunch his nose at the taste. He was never one for coffee, but he was sure it wasn't supposed to taste this bitter.

"How is it, Mr. Malfoy?" Old man Luke asked with expectant eyes, rubbing his hands against each other as he waited for his next brew to finish.

"It's exquisite." He lied through his teeth.

"The secret is to grind the beans just right before steeping, sir! Keeps the taste fresh and more vibrant!"

"Is that so? How revolutionary." Came his deadpan tone.

Hermione bit the edge of her bottom lip to hide her amusement at his attempt to be civil. She watched the old man beam at the praise, happy to be acknowledged for his craft.

"Here you go, Miss Granger!"

Hermione nodded her thanks as she took the paper cup in one hand, careful not to let it spill. "So what brings you to a food cart, Malfoy? This hardly counts as your go to cuisine."

Draco shrugged. "I needed coffee. Firewhiskey would have been the better choice after that pointless meeting." He rolled his eyes. They could have saved him some time by telling him to just fuck off and count his blessings. "But alas, there's an absence of liquor carts." He looked around to catalog the rest of the food items, before turning his attention back to Luke. "Maybe you can think of adding that to your carte du jour? I'd be more than willing to buy your entire stock every time I drop by."

"Oh we're not allowed to sell alcohol, sir." The merchant chuckled sheepishly.

Draco sighed. "Shame."

Hermione took a moment to tune into her surroundings, feeling it grow heavy with people as the lunch hour rang in. The goal was to be spotted out in broad daylight, sharing a pleasant exchange. It was the perfect opportunity to transition their relationship into something more amicable, using the Belby ball as the reason for the change.

"Perhaps I can interest you in some doughnuts?" Luke motioned a hand towards the glass container that housed several stacks of the dessert.

"What do think looks good, Granger?"

Her sudden inclusion in the conversation took her by surprise. "Uh… That one looks good." She pointed at a plain looking glazed doughnut. She heard him chuckle as he shook his head.

"The safe option, I see."

Hermione raised a brow at the lopsided smile he sent her. Was he trying to be charming? She failed to stop herself from scoffing.

"One glazed doughnut, for the lady and…" He took a moment to scan the rest of the items in silent contemplation. "I'll have this one."

Hermione eyed him incredulously. "Are you serious?"

"Go big or go home, Granger." He shrugged, an air of abandon in his demeanor; a wide grin on his face.

It was so weird seeing him like this – so casual, so laidback, so agreeable. Just like that, Hermione was back to scrutinizing him. They've been at this for more than three months, but up until now, she still couldn't figure him out. The only thing she could conclusively determine about him was the fact that he was an annoyingly talented actor.

"One glazed doughnut for Miss Granger, and one Unicorn Explosion for Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione watched Malfoy's hand pause midway from acquiring the doughnut, no doubt in shock after hearing the name of his choice. It was a ghastly thing covered in rainbow glaze, full of marshmallows, sprinkles, glitter dust, and sugar icicles. It made her want to gag. She watched Malfoy eye it suspiciously, no doubt regretting his decision now.

She bit into her doughnut, humming her approval as she threw a look towards Luke, who grinned gleefully at her reaction. She glanced at Malfoy, prompting him to do the same, jutting her chin towards the monstrosity in his hand. She saw him swallow, bringing the dessert towards his mouth hesitantly, before he finally took a bite. She watched his brows rise in genuine surprise, throwing the merchant a glance as he nodded.

"Not bad."

The old man looked just about ready to pass out from all the praise.

Hermione found herself face to face with the colorful doughnut before she could say another word. It looked much worse up close. 

"Try it."

She blinked at him, not sure how to respond to his bold move. She could feel everyone staring at them in curiosity. Surely this was a bit much? They did agree to be more public, but an indirect kiss in broad daylight seemed like too big of a leap.

"No thanks, Malfoy." She raised a hand towards him, shaking her head awkwardly. She watched him frown.

"I'm sure Luke would like to hear a review." He added, tilting his head towards the old man who nodded enthusiastically in agreement. But Hermione had a feeling it was less for her approval, and more for his entertainment.

"Here." Draco took a tissue off the cart, tearing a section off his doughnut, resulting to an avalanche of sugar. He ignored the mess on the floor, stretching his hand out to offer a portion of his dessert to her.

She was looking at him with wide questioning eyes, unsure of what to do. She saw him nod towards the piece in his hand, nudging it towards her. She took it off his grasp reluctantly, eying it like she would a skittish animal.

"It's not that bad." As if to emphasize his point, he took another bite off the doughnut, encouraging her to do the same.

Hermione took a deep breath, taking a small nibble off the edge, trying her best not to scrunch her face in disapproval. She could see Luke's expectant gaze on her, hoping she would love it. "It's a bit too… sugary." Was all she allowed herself to say.

The old man pointed at the doughnut, grinning at her remark. "It's made for sweet tooths!"

Draco scoffed, looking at him in amusement. "You don't say!" They laughed in unison for completely different reasons. It was unbelievable how much of his sarcasm went over the merchant's head.

She continued to eye him, trying her best not to glare at him in suspicion. The persona he was employing at the moment reminded her a little bit of Theodore Nott – sarcastic but charming, frivolous but pleasant. Was this how he was when he was relaxed? Or was this another one of his acts? She sighed in frustration. She could never tell.

* * *

"A visit from Harry Potter himself! To what do I owe such a pleasure?"

"Minister." Harry met Kingsley Shacklebolt's hand midway, shaking it firmly in his.

"Please."

Harry moved towards the chair the taller man gestured towards, smiling at him cordially. "I'm sure you're very busy minister, so I won't take up too much of your time."

Kingsley took a seat, nodding his head towards one of his top Aurors. "You said there was something you needed to inquire about?"

"Yes." Harry swallowed uncomfortably, still trying to figure out a way to ask what he wanted to without sounding accusatory. "It's been brought to my attention that several purebloods were forced into detention without any grounds after the war." He paused, noting the expression on the older man's face. Harry expected him to be shocked, or even a little bit surprised, but the slight rise of his brows, and the contemplative look on his face, told him everything.

"Where did you hear this information?"

Harry had always been intimidated by the man. He was six foot and two inches tall, and had a build at least double his own. But in that one question, he felt his blood chill, threatened by the underlying promise interlaced in the older man's tone. "From several pureblood families who grew antagonistic at the mere sight of me in my Auror uniform." He answered vaguely, not wanting to give anything away. He had gone to see the Greengrasses, Bulstrodes, Flints, and Fawleys over the past couple of days, and they had all reacted the same way Pansy had when she first caught sight of him.

"So it's true." Harry concluded after a moment of prolonged silence. He kept his gaze on Kingsley's face, watching as the older man assessed him silently with calculating eyes.

"Why?" Harry finally found himself asking, not being able to hold himself back any longer.

"Mr. Potter." Came Shacklebolt's authoritative tone. "When do you supposed the war ended? If you could attribute one simple occurrence to it."

Harry narrowed his eyes, unsure of where the conversation was going. "When Voldemort died." He replied resolutely. After all, what other answer was there? He watched the minister give him a small smile reminiscent of an expression that Sirius had once given him. It was a look that told him he was naïve – too simpleminded, too much of a child.

"There is no one marker that ends war, Mr. Potter. There is, and will always be, a need to constantly snuff out embers of it before it grows back into a full blown Fiendfyre." Kingsley interlaced his fingers, bringing them under his chin, glancing at the young boy who was looking at him without any attempt to hide his contempt.

"And that's what you did? You didn't care that innocent people got dragged into the mix?"

"May I remind you, Mr. Potter, that I, too, am a pureblood."

Harry shook his head, a look of incredulity on his face. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"I know our world well, Mr. Potter." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. The expression made him look eerie and daunting. "With purebloods, there is no such thing as a person who is truly innocent. There is always something someone knows – something someone's witnessed, heard, observed – but never reported."

"And you couldn't have done it through legal means?"

Kingsley took a moment to look at the righteous face of the Boy Who Lived, reminiscing the days when he had been that gullible. "Did you know, Mr. Potter, that on the very day Voldemort died, the Death Eaters had been planning on assigning a new face to their cause?"

Harry failed to hide his surprise at the statement.

"They have a list, Mr. Potter, of eligible candidates." Kingsley smirked at the look on the younger man's face. "If we had taken a few more days to delay our response – process the necessary papers, employ more manpower, acquire enough evidence – we'd still be in the middle of the battle field right now, wondering just what had gone wrong."

Harry fisted the hand on his leg, unsure whether he could trust Minister Shacklebolt's words.

"I did what had to be done, Mr. Potter. I don't expect any praise for it, and I'm not asking for anyone's validation."

Harry looked straight into the dark eyes that bore into his own. The intensity of the minister's gaze reminded him a bit of how Legilimency felt.

"Somebody had to do the job no one else wanted to."

* * *

Draco tried his best to make himself as surreptitiously conspicuous as he could as he walked through the lobby. He rolled his eyes at the contradicting thought. They agreed on a simple lunch date at St. Mungos this time around. It took her awhile to accept the idea, but after he laid out his arguments, there was no reason for her to say no. Meeting in her office wasn't impersonal, but it was definitely a far cry to an outright date at a restaurant. And the fact that he was dropping by during lunch break could make it pass as a courtesy call.

Before Draco could knock on her door, it swiveled open to reveal a familiar looking man he was sure he's seen somewhere. He eyed the smaller man's slicked down dark hair parted right in the middle, emphasizing the pointy quality of his nose and chin. Judging by his clothes, he was a healer as well.

"Mr. Malfoy." He sounded surprised.

Draco eyed his nameplate covertly, before he nodded his head towards him. "Healer Husslehurf."

Gregory Husslehurf tilted his head to one side, trying his best to reel in his shock. "What brings you here?"

Draco raised a white paper bag by its twisted handles. "Delivery."

"For?" The healer asked before he could stop himself.

Draco raised an eyebrow at the inquiry. Wasn't it obvious? He was standing right outside her office for crying out loud.

"Oh, Draco! What are you doing out there?"

The use of his given name caught him off guard. He stared at her for a few seconds, blinking awkwardly before he found his voice once again. "I hope I didn't come at a bad time. I was in the area, so I thought I'd drop by."

Hermione ignored the look of utter disbelief the pureblood healer threw her way. She hated the fact that he had once accused her of using Malfoy as a way to climb up the social ladder when, in reality, it was the other way around. So when she overheard the mediwitches and wizards gossip about how Gregory would drop by the blonde man's room whenever he could, she decided she would use that information one day to get back at him a bit for all the pettiness he'd thrown at her.

"It's fine." She called out with a smile. "I'm on break. Come in." She kept her gaze on Malfoy as he made himself comfortable on her couch, eying Gregory by the corner of her eye. She wanted to laugh at the slack jawed expression on his face.

"Oh, was there something else, Healer Husslehurf?"

The man shook his head immediately, scurrying out of the room as he shut the door.

"What was that about?"

Hermione chuckled at the clueless look on Malfoy's face, deciding not to let him in on the fact that the healer who just left harbored a bit of a schoolboy crush on him. She had a strong feeling Gregory would be loose lipped about what he had just witnessed. He honestly couldn't have come at a better time. "Nothing. So what did you get for date number two?" She eyed the paper bag he brought with him.

Draco rolled his eyes, setting up the packets of food on the coffee table. "You're keeping count? If anyone should, it should be me. Do you have any idea how long it's been since I last had a good shag?" He scoffed in disbelief, before the expression on his face fell. "Could this actually be a classic case of blue balls?"

Hermione laughed out loud at the unexpected pun. The serious way he said it – eyebrows scrunched, lips frowning, eyes narrowed – as if it was something to contemplate hard on, made it even funnier.

Draco was taken aback by the sheer abandon of her amusement. This was the first time she actually laughed in glee because of something he had said. He watched as the corner of her eyes crinkled; lips in a wide smile revealing perfectly white teeth. Her sudden outburst brought a flush to her cheeks – a nice complement to the pale color of her skin. He blinked.

Realizing what she had just done, Hermione tried to pass off the rest of her giggles as coughs. "Uh no, Malfoy. Prolonged abstinence does not cause blue balls."

Draco hummed, focusing on arranging the rest of their meal on the table instead. The sudden silence between them emphasized the awkward tension in the room.

Hermione ran a finger through her temple as she headed towards the couch across Malfoy's. It wasn't really a date. He was just bringing lunch to her office, making sure to be spotted. But for some reason, being alone with him without an audience made things seem more intimate and personal. This was the first time they wouldn't have to actively act for anyone.

They ate in silence, neither willing to initiate a conversation. After all, what was the point? No one was there to see it. To say that the entire meal was awkward was definitely an understatement.

Clearing out what was left of the salmon in her take away, Hermione stalked towards her work desk, pulling a drawer open to rummage for something. "I have a suggestion."

Draco looked up from his task of packing away their used utensils, when his eye caught hold of a familiar item in her grasp. It was that thing she used to call those cars that would take them wherever they wanted to go. He narrowed his eyes, watching her walk back towards the sofa as he packed the last of the empty food containers.

"As you already know, this is a cellphone." She held the item out for him to see, flipping it open. "You can use it to send someone messages much faster than an owl. You can call someone easily as well, not requiring a floo or having to deal with the inconvenience of someone not being home. And it lets you take photographs, which I already showed you before."

"Granger, why are you telling me all this?" He asked despite already having an inkling of her answer.

"Being caught with one would be good for your image." She watched him look at the item with disdain and suspicion as she slid it slowly across the table towards him. She took a deep breath, braising herself for whatever reply he might throw at her.

"Theo told me about those 'signals'. Invisible waves he called it, and how it exists constantly around muggles to make those things work." He jutted his chin towards the metal block, as if the act of pointing at it was offensive. "I refuse to have something so obscure surrounding me, day in and day out, without knowing the adverse effects it might have on my constitution."

Hermione pursed her lips to stop herself from laughing, but a few bouts of giggles escaped through her nose. His words reminded her of her father's whenever he would rant about conspiracy theories concerning phones, and how he'd die before he would use such a contraption. "I've used this for years, Malfoy. I'm still alive." She teased. The sudden scandalized look on his face confused her. "What?"

"You've _used_ it..." He glared at the metal phone on his side of the table, eying the scratches and chips on its surface. The flipped block had definitely seen better days. "...For _years_?" He looked at her clearly appalled. "I'll have you know that I've never…" He paused, as if his next words were so abhorrent he couldn't bring himself to utter them. He held a hand out in front of him both to steel himself and to reject her offer all together. " _Never_ in my life, have I been given a hand me down."

Hermione couldn't suppress the laugh that bubbled out of her throat. When she saw him throw her a look of utter incredulity, she laughed even harder. All the possible comebacks she could have said were drowned out by the hilarity of it all.

She thought he was disgusted by the fact that it was a muggle device, but instead, he was offended by ambiguous signals and the thought that it was secondhand. She continued to snicker. It was moments like these that made her see the old him. She blinked. Wait, the _old_ him?

"What the hell is so funny, Granger?" Draco couldn't understand her humor at all. She would laugh at the most random things that didn't make sense. Just the fact that she found him funny was downright... _strange._ He watched her wipe the small tears from the corner of her eyes, heading back to her bureau to store the phone in the drawer once again.

"Never change, Malfoy." He heard her say. The fondness in her gaze, and the playful tone of her voice made him look away.

* * *

"Why are you here _again_?"

Theo looked up from his position on the couch, lifting a bag of potato chips in greeting. "Hey, Pans! Thought I might help myself to your snacks. It's a bit hard to watch a movie without anything to munch on."

Pansy growled as she stalked towards her home theater. She hasn't exactly figured out how it worked yet, but it wasn't like she bothered to learn. She only had it in her flat because it had been Theo's housewarming gift, which she found out later on that it was more for him than her.

She moved towards the one place she knew how to operate. Pulling out the main plug, she watched with satisfaction as the appliances died simultaneously.

"Hey!"

"Out with it." She moved to stand right in front of him – one leg out, both arms crossed.

Theo wanted to roll his eyes at the practiced pose.

"What did you do?" Came her accusatory tone.

Theo raised a hand over his heart. "Can't it just be that I've missed you? That I just… want to spend time with one of my closest, dearest friends?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Fact check."

Theo sighed. "Here we go again." This was one of her favorite things. Reality orientation, she called it. He watched her raise one finger at a time to emphasize her point.

"One. We've only really interacted two years ago, thanks to Blaise _bloody_ Zabini. Two. We only hang out with each other if there's _no_ other choice. Three. You only ever hide out here if Blaise and Draco aren't an option." Pansy brought down her fingers, folding her arms across her chest once again. "So spit it out. Who did you piss off this time around?"

"No one."

Pansy rolled her eyes once again. "Theo, don't _pout_. It's not cute on a grown man." She flopped down the couch beside him, crossing one leg over the other. "But judging by your level of brooding, I put my money on Draco." She watched his eyebrows rise up his forehead. She rolled her eyes yet again, realizing that it was probably the Nott heir's fault why she'd gotten so good at the gesture.

"So which part of his life did you meddle in this time?" When his jaw fell open, Pansy couldn't help but scoff, offended by the genuine surprise on his face. "Theo, I know you think you're _so_ mysterious and all, but really, your face says it all. Every damn time." She sighed. "So much so that I really wonder if you've been placed in the wrong house."

"I did something bad." He finally admitted, in a quiet voice.

"Don't you always?"

Theo knew he couldn't tell her about the details. He didn't trust her enough to stay silent about it if she knew her first love's current rumored relationship was fake. So he stayed silent. The fact that Draco wasn't confronting him about it, or owling him for an explanation, was what concerned him the most. Did his interference make his childhood friend angry beyond consolation?

Pansy sighed again. "This is just like that time you were so anxious about telling Draco you stayed in the muggle world during the war, and that you ended up falling in love with it." She scrunched her nose at the latter part of her sentence.

Theo hummed. He could still clearly recall the exchange they had that day.

"You were so scared he would leave and never talk to you again." Pansy deadpanned, rolling her eyes for the umpteenth time. If she took a shot for every instance she did that with Theo, she'd definitely be piss ass drunk. "Did he?" She raised a brow at him.

Theo shook his head.

"And what did he say to your confession?" She prompted him to continue, sounding like a professor trying to coax an answer out of a reluctant student.

Theo sighed. Draco never asked him how he survived the war. But when he finally told him how, Draco put it in such simple terms that made it possible for him to let go of a bit of his guilt. _"You're alive, aren't you? What else matters?"_ He echoed the words of his best friend that made him cry in relief that day.

"See?" Pansy splayed her palms out to prove her point. "If he can get over the fact that you love _muggle_ stuff…" She scrunched her nose up again in disgust. "I'm sure he can get over whatever shit you've gone ahead and done."

Theo sighed, he knew she was trying her best to make him feel better, in her own Pansy Parkinson way, but the derogatory tone she employed whenever she talked about muggles irked him. "What is it with you and your dislike for anything muggle?"

"What?" The straightforward question took her off guard.

Theo moved out of the couch wordlessly to plug in the home theater – turning on every single gadget he could find.

"Theo, what are you-" Before Pansy could even finish her question, he was in the kitchen opening the double doors of her refrigerator. He moved in a rush to turn on the microwave, wind up the toaster, and fire up the stove. He doubled back to set up the oven as an afterthought.

Pansy raised both her hands up in a gesture of incredulity when she saw him grab the remote control, turning the air conditioner on and off, before pulling out the phone to order a pizza.

"What the bloody hell are you doing, Theo?!"

He finally paused to glance at her, allowing them both a few seconds to let the chaos sink in. He gestured at her flat that had suddenly sprung to life – hands splayed out towards its entirety.

"Pansy, look around you. Do you not see what I see?" He brought his arms down, letting them bounce against the sides of his torso unceremoniously. "We're surrounded by the finest form of wandless magic. How are you not in awe?"

* * *

Draco grumbled as he stood outside of Flourish and Blotts, holding onto at least five other packages that were beginning to weigh his arms down.

Date number three was supposed to be an accidental run in at Diagon Alley, to which he, being the perfect gentleman that he is, would offer to help her carry some of her purchases. What he didn't expect though, was that he would be led by the nose from one shop to another, acting like her glorified house elf.

"Sorry, took a while. The line was long."

He fought the urge to glare at her. He knew the damn line was long. The number of people who've gotten in and out the bookstore in the last half hour would have been enough to fill the Great Hall.

"Here let me get that." Hermione took one bag off his load, depositing it on her other hand.

When they planned the third date to end up like this, she decided to get in as many errands as she could, so she would be able to free up the rest of her week for her research. She'd finally gotten in touch with a famous neuropsychiatrist from Japan who was one of the muggle world's leading researchers on memory. She needed to take some time off to fly to her office and interview her as much as she could.

Draco eyed the paper bag she cradled on one hand with the bookstore's name etched on it. "That the last of it?"

Hermione nodded. She could tell the long wait and the parcels he had to carry were turning his mood sour, but if he hadn't been so opposed to using her beaded handbag, they wouldn't be having this issue.

She rolled her eyes as they walked side by side, ignoring the blatant stares and whispers in their direction. She never understood the need to have men carry items for her. She could have easily done this by herself with any bag and a simple extension charm.

They walked towards an alley, hiding away from the sight of the masses to apparate to her apartment. To say that Draco was surprised when she added him to her wards was an understatement. It was mainly to make slipping away from today's date easier, but just the fact that he had been given that form of access to her home… well, he didn't know what to make of it.

Hermione glared at him the moment he dropped her packages onto her couch without a care, thankful that there was nothing particularly fragile in them. She watched him take a sniff of his fingers, face contorting in disgust. "Did you have Armadillo Bile in there?" He was looking at her with wide eyes.

Hermione blinked at him, surprised he'd been able to tell given just the smell. "Yes. I need it for my Wit-Sharpening Potion." She watched him growl in annoyance, stalking off somewhere in her flat. "Where are you going?" She looked at his retreating back in disbelief.

"Bathroom."

Hermione watched him navigate through her home with an ease that unnerved her. He moved as if it was a space he routinely occupied and knew like the back of his hand. Her flat definitely wasn't huge and getting used to its layout wasn't difficult, but the way he moved around in it with a purpose and a familiarity didn't quite sit well with her.

She moved to go after him when the unexpected green light from the floo startled her.

"Hermione! I did something!"

The crazed look in her best friend's green eyes made her raise her hands up to calm him down. "Harry, is everything okay?"

"I quit." He tried to swallow down a giggle but failed. "Just now!" He was bouncing on the balls of his feet looking high on several vials of pepper up potion. He began pacing around her living room with an energy he couldn't quite explain the source of.

"Wait, what?" Hermione needed to close her eyes for a moment to process what he just said. 

"I chucked my resignation letter down on Kingsley's table like this!"

Hermione flinched at the quick gesture Harry made with his hand, looking very much like he just slapped someone lopsided on the head.

"And I said, _I have a view of what the light side looks like, and this isn't it_."

Hermione eyed him in disbelief, utterly speechless. Here he was, telling her that he just quit his job – a career he dreamed of for as long as she could remember – and he was snickering like it was the funniest joke he's ever heard.

"Harry, what on earth happened? Why did you-"

"Hermione, I think I used up all your shampoo. I'll just replace it the next time I-"

Hermione felt her mouth fall open at the sight of Malfoy in lounge clothes, wiping a large towel over his head. She could practically feel Harry's eyes on her, judging her silently for whatever ideas he now probably had in his head.

"Potter." Draco called out hesitantly, avoiding eye contact, looking like he wanted to be anywhere else but here.

Hermione wanted to chuck the bottle of Armadillo Bile right at his lying face! He was doing this on purpose! He transfigured his suit into a matching jumper and lounge pants, wet his hair, and was acting all sheepish, just so he could give Harry the wrong idea!

"You just run into each other a lot huh?" Harry sighed, eyes shifting between the two of them, before resting heavily on Hermione's.

Hermione tried her best to explain, but everything she could think of, the nondisclosure clause of the contract counteracted. Instead, she ended up looking like she was trying to lie her ass off, but couldn't, for the life of her, think of one thing to say.

Harry raised his hands in defeat. "Excuse the intrusion." He threw Hermione one more look, silently telling her that this discussion was far from over.

"Wait, Harry I-"

The pop of apparition was all she got as a reply.

Draco grinned as he moved to stand alongside the still stunned Gryffindor, eying the spot where the Golden Boy had been. He recoiled at the sudden sting of a hand colliding roughly against his arm. He looked at her in shock, rubbing the now sore spot near his shoulder.

"What the fuck were you thinking?!"

Draco knew he should have retaliated to her slap, but he couldn't get over the hilarity of the situation. He fought the grin itching to engulf half of his face, opting to don a small smirk instead. "You should be thankful for my quick thinking, Granger. A quick spray from the shower and you've got this 'I just finished cleaning up after sex' look." He ran a hand through his hair.

Draco took a step back reflexively, raising his hands up in protection, when she stomped a foot against the floor, looking like she would lunge at him at any moment. "Did you just _flex_ on me, Granger?" He eyed her in utter disbelief.

It was hard enough that she had to pretend for strangers, but now, she had to act in front of Harry too?! Her best friend who had the most earnest green eyes who could see through all her lies with just one look? Hermione tried her best to bite down the urge to strangle him on her living room floor. "Leave. _Now_. Before I hex you into the next century!"

Draco didn't need to be told twice. He offered her a mock salute that he was sure would piss her off, before vanishing with a pop.

* * *

Ron nearly screamed at the sight of the black swollen eye that met him the moment he turned on the kitchen lights. "Merlin's fucking balls, Ginny!" He looked wide-eyed at the bruise that swamped almost half of her face.

Ginny rolled her eyes at her brother's excessive reaction. He was holding one hand to his heart, and another by the wall to steady himself.

"What happened to your face?!"

Ginny looked back down at the cup of hot milk in front of her, leaning the good side of her chin on one palm. "Bludger."

Ron nodded, finally understanding the reason why she looked like someone cast a blotched glamour charm on her face. "Who were you up against?"

"Caerphilly Catapults." She answered curtly.

Ron moved towards the table awkwardly, placing one hand over the worn-down wood, tapping it tentatively. "Did you win?"

"Hn."

"Congratulations." Ron sighed, eying his sister's uninterested demeanor, not bothering to hide the fact that she still wasn't in the mood to talk to him. Her one word answers were still a welcome change from the complete and total dismissal she'd given him months prior.

"You should get a salve for that." He pointed towards her face. "Did you cast a cooling charm on it?"

"Hn."

He sighed again, moving to grab a glass of water. "Do you mind?" He pointed towards a chair across her, hoping she wouldn't walk out on him this time.

Ron felt a glimmer of hope thunder through his chest when she shrugged. It wasn't technically an approval, but it wasn't a dismissal either. He took a seat wordlessly, taking another sip of water, before placing it back on the table. "So…" He rubbed his palms against the fabric of his pajama pants. "How've you been?"

"Same."

He nodded, reminding himself that the fact that she was talking to him was a good thing, no matter how offhanded her replies sounded. "You've been good?"

"Hn."

He scratched the back of his head. "I-uh… Talked to Harry a few months ago." He paused to eye her, gauging whether he would continue or not. He watched her sigh out loud, taking a sip from her mug wordlessly.

Ron didn't know how to continue the conversation without pissing her off. They haven't really talked since his breakup with Hermione. Everyone in his family had been grossly disappointed with him, but Ginny had taken it to heart the most. "Are you okay?"

"Don't." Was all he heard her say.

Don't what? Don't speak to her? Don't ask? Don't try to act like he understood? Don't pretend to care? Ron ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Ginny. I know you're mad at me, and I get that I deserve that. But I just want to know if you're okay, alright? You get back home at really odd hours, sometimes piss ass drunk and…" He paused to look at her. "And you look like you've been through hell lately."

"Bludger."

Ron rolled his eyes at her answer. "I didn't mean _that_." He gestured towards her face. "I mean in general. Your disposition. It's just…" He sighed, trying to find the words that would express what he meant. He ran a hand through his face. "Talk to me."

Ginny finally let herself look up at her older brother. She never really thought much of him, since he was never really that smart. But he was earnest, trustworthy, and… He would do it begrudgingly, but he always did the right thing. Hearing that he'd done something so horrid, and to one of her friends nonetheless… She just couldn't bring herself to come into terms with it.

"I know you're upset with me, Ginny." Ron looked down at his hands, not able to take the judgment in her gaze any longer. "I was selfish. I was a coward… And I didn't want to have the difficult conversations." He let out a drawn-out sigh. "I was just so tired. Of _everything_. I just… I wanted to forget and move on. But… But Hermione…" He paused, as if what he would say next pained him. "She couldn't. She was stuck in it. And no matter how hard I tried, she wouldn't let me in. She just- She didn't want any help."

Ginny said nothing. She looked at the weary expression on her older brother's face that made him look much older than he actually was.

"I ran into Lav at a pub one evening and we caught up." He glanced up to see that his sister had her eyes on him the entire time. He looked away again. "It was just for chats at first and there wasn't anything there. But one night, after another fight with Hermione, I asked if she had time, and we met up, got drunk, and then that was it." He ran his palms through his face several times, as if the gesture could rub away the guilt still eating away at him until now. "I wanted to stop it after the first time. And Lav was adamant about it not happening again too. But…" He let out a sigh of resignation. "I couldn't help it."

Ginny felt a bubble of anger slowly rise from her chest, clawing all the way up to her throat, begging to be unleased. "You couldn't _help_ it?" Came the vitriol in her tone. "The first time, _fine_ , you can write off as an accident. But the next few times? Those were deliberate!" The image of a certain dark-skinned, dark-haired Slytherin flashed through her mind, quieting her down instantly.

"I know." Ron grumbled, face in his palms, missing the way his sister's face contorted in shock at her own realization. "But she made me feel safe. I could talk to her about anything. I felt like… She was really listening to me, you know? She was there with me." He dragged his hands off his face, looking back at the other redhead in the room. "I tried so many times to break it up with Hermione. I did. I really did but-" He ran another hand through his messy hair. "Every time I would muster up the courage, I would see her… just…" He sighed at the memory of her screaming in the middle of the night, crying until she fell back to sleep. "She was so… _broken_. I couldn't bring myself to break her further." He heard the irony in his statement, making him want to throw himself off the closest building he could find.

"When the article on the prophet got out, I had no idea what to do! I found out about it at work when Harry dragged me to a corner, literally slamming a copy of it on my face." He leaned back on the chair – arms sagging to his sides, head leaning back to stare at the ceiling. "I never told anyone about us, not even Harry! I had no idea how anyone could have gotten those pictures. I tried to find Hermione to apologize, but when I got back to our place, all her things were gone. I wanted to search for her, but I thought maybe she needed some space and-"

He closed his eyes. Who was he kidding? When he found out she had left, that not a single trace of her could be seen in their apartment, he was… relieved. That way, he didn't have to have the difficult conversations. He could get away with the fact that she had left him no choice.

"I'm an asshole." He admitted out loud.

"I think we've already established that as a fact." Ginny muttered in agreement, still reeling from her own examination of her current situation. She wasn't cheating, and neither was he. But she'd be lying to herself if she said it was something she could easily stop doing. If someone would ask her the reason why she kept at it, she wasn't exactly sure either. She grumbled to herself. She hated it, but it made her understand where her older brother was coming from.

"Lav wanted us to stop when the articles got out. She said we never should have done it in the first place." Ron sighed, sitting up to place his intertwined hands back on the table. "She got the brunt of it, you know. The hate. She would get howlers and letters with hexes in them. She would get disturbing packages in her mail, people on the street would call her names, and guys would act really disrespectful towards her." He closed his eyes, recalling everything she had to go through because of him. "She became a mess. And… I couldn't leave her. But not just because she was being harassed." He paused to look his little sister in the eye. "I really love her."

Ginny felt her lips part at the realization that perhaps her brother's relationship wasn't as shallow as she made it out to be. It definitely wasn't born out of good intentions and responsible decisions, but as she sat in the dimly lit kitchen of the Burrow, looking at her brother's blue eyes staring at her earnestly, she understood.

* * *

"Mother, we need to go." Draco rapped against the door to her bedroom, unsure of why she was taking so long. They were only allotted an hour to visit his father every year. With her being in Azkaban for the previous year, and him being strictly on house arrest, that meant it's been nearly two years since they've last seen him. He was surprised the ministry bestowed his mother visitation rights, despite the ruling of her case. But whatever motivated them to do so, Draco neither had the time nor the patience to try and comprehend. The dealing of their case, and the current persecution they were experiencing, were as arbitrary as they could get.

Draco sighed when he heard no response from the other side of the door. He expected his mother to be a bit more enthusiastic, but it wasn't like he was surprised. Theirs wasn't exactly the picture perfect description of a marriage full of love.

The door flung open to reveal bloodshot eyes, and a hasty makeup job done to conceal what seemed like a bout of crying. Draco narrowed his eyes, just about to ask what was wrong, when his mother showed him a golden envelop that filled him with dread.

"They're taking our Gringotts account this time." He heard her say.

Draco scanned the letter in disbelief, laughing bitterly at the timing. They just _had_ to send the letter on the one day his father had been allowed visitation rights. He couldn't even bring himself to get angry over the injustice of it all. Whoever was behind this, as one Slytherin to another – he was sure no other house could be this conniving – he wanted to congratulate them for their pettiness.

"Not a word about this to your father, you understand? I'm sure he's probably heard about the manor but this one, we keep between us, alright Draco?"

Draco let out a sigh. If the people behind his family's persecution were this spiteful, he wouldn't put it past them to have a prison guard slip that information to his father.

"Draco?"

"Yes, mother." He nodded nonetheless.

* * *

Draco eyed the blunt plastic spoon Lucius held in one hand, scooping a portion of the roast duck into his mouth as gracefully as he could. It seemed life in prison hadn't sullied his table manners.

He eyed his father's platinum blonde hair that was a mirror of his own, much longer than he had ever seen it – grazing the top of his hips. He looked gaunt and somewhat sickly; the stubble on his jaw emphasized his unkempt look even further.

But his eyes were the worst. What were once liquid mercury had turned into a lackluster steel just a breath away from corroding. They shifted between unfocused to disoriented, glazed then manic. It was a strange sight to see, an inexplicable thing to experience – sitting right across his father, the one person whose approval he withstood an entire war for, looking like the shell of the man he once was.

"How's the food?"

Draco wanted to roll his eyes at his mother's attempt at conversation. They haven't seen each other in almost two years and all they could muster up was small talk about the cuisine?

"Wonderful." He heard his father reply, bringing down the cheapest cutlery Draco was sure the Malfoy patriarch had ever laid his hands on. He wanted to say something, anything really.

 _How are you father? Have you been eating well?_ It didn't look like he did. Not at all. _Do you have nightmares when you sleep? Because I had, for a time. Until I learned to hide them away. Far far away where my mind couldn't reach them._ He couldn't remember the last time he dreamt. But it certainly wasn't something he missed. _Do you regret it father? Do you wish you could take it all back?_ Because he did. He really did. Every damn fucking day.

"By the way, I heard something interesting. Would you care to elaborate on it, Draco?"

Draco felt his eyebrows raise at the sudden mention of his name. It felt strange to hear it with his father's voice after all these years.

"I've been told you're dating a muggle-born witch."

Draco heard the faint sound of his mother holding her breath, while he struggled to maintain his own. He primed himself for this – thought of the possibility that the rumors about him had reached even the corners of Azkaban. But he certainly wasn't prepared enough to face the brunt of his father's judgement.

"The man in the cell across mine mentioned it after he'd seen his family a couple of weeks ago."

Draco swallowed, dropping his gaze down, no longer able to handle the weight of the silver eyes staring right at him. He heard his father hum in understanding at his overt evasion. His silence was more than enough of an admission. It wasn't like he could tell his father it was all an elaborate ruse – a desperate act to try and nudge things in their favor, no matter how small. He was certain there were eyes and ears in every nook and cranny of the bare room they were housed in.

"What's her name?"

Draco forgot how to breathe, feeling his blood chill all the way down to his bones.

"The man wouldn't tell me, snickering when I asked. He said it was better to hear it from you."

Draco felt his mother's hand over his, grasping at it as if it was the only thing capable of keeping her alive.

"Draco."

Draco felt his breath hitch at the sudden authoritarian tone his father employed. He'd long since forgotten how it sounded, but its effect was instantaneous. His chin lifted up, spine straightening along with it as his eyes shot up towards his father – attentive and obedient. He fought the compulsion, forcing himself to look back down towards his mother's hand.

_"Draco."_

His eyes were back to the identical gray right across him before he even realized. In that moment, he was seven again, being told repeatedly how to show respect towards his father.

_Look at me when I'm talking to you._

_Do not, and I repeat, do not ever raise your voice at me._

_Never question my decisions, Draco. I'm always right._

_Do not speak out of turn. Do not interrupt me when I'm talking._

_Do what I tell you. I know what's best for you._

Lucius' next order came before he could snap out of it. 

"Tell me who she is."

Draco barely had time to recollect himself. The compulsion to follow was stronger than his resolve.

"Hermione Granger."

He blinked, and in the next moment, his father was on him – lunging over the table, toppling them backwards onto the ground. He winced when the back of his head hit the stone floor. The steel chair dug mercilessly into his spine, but he had no time to recover. A pair of hands were on his neck, squeezing the life out of him with a vengeance he hadn't felt since the war.

Draco clawed at the fingers against his throat, feeling his nails dig into cold flesh, shearing it upon contact. He could hear muffled screams that sounded distant to him. There was a ringing in his ear that grew louder and louder – robbing him of the ability to hear, paralyzing his ability to think. All he could see was his father's livid face a foot away from him, glaring at him with every intention of ending his life.

_Was this it?_

He could see his father's mouth moving, but he couldn't make out the words. His mother was by his side, clawing at his father desperately. Everything was moving in slow motion. The images blurred, lagged, fizzled – looking like something conjured from a faulty pensieve.

_So this was the end._

Narcissa watched in horror as her only son let go of Lucius' hands, dropping his arms languidly on his sides. "Draco!"

Draco stared blankly at the gray eyes that looked just like his own. He was tired. He was so _very_ tired.

This was fine, wasn't it? This was okay, right? Just a little bit more and there would be no more pain. No more regrets. No more nothing. He was just _so_ tired.

It was about time he finally had some rest.

"Draco! What are you doing?!" Narcissa continued to pull at Lucius' shoulders, moving to grab his neck, his hair, his shirt – anything she could pull on to make him stop. She kept screaming at him to let go – that he was hurting his son, that he was going to kill him. But nothing reached him. He latched onto Draco as if that one act could filter the life he was draining from his very own son, right onto him.

Draco heard a slam loud enough to register on his barely conscious mind. The hands on him were gone, forcing his lungs to seize up at the sudden influx of air. He raised a hand towards his throat instinctively, not quite able to feel his neck, as he coughed uncontrollably. He felt a bit of his hearing return, finally able to make sense of what his father had been screaming at him. 

"How dare you betray the Dark Lord?! He'll kill us all! He'll kill us all!"

Draco heard the clatter of cutlery, grunts and struggles here and there, until Lucius was finally nowhere to be seen. He felt a hand on his cheek, no doubt his mother's, but he didn't have a care to check. He released his throat, dropping his hand back down to his side, as he stared unblinking at ceiling.

A chuckle escape his chest – despite its heaving, despite all the pain. It started out small, then erupted into full blown laughter that had him wheezing both from the lack of oxygen and the sudden exertion. Tears were in his eyes, spilling down the sides of his temples, but he made no move to wipe them. He laid unmoving on the cold stone floor, laughing uninhibitedly at what seemed like the funniest joke of the century.

Narcissa felt her hand slide off her son's face, kneeling on the floor unable to move – frozen by everything she'd just witnessed. She looked at Draco's face, laughing with utter abandon, as if he hadn't just been attacked by his own father with the intent of murder.

She watched the large tears spilling from his eyes – a clear contrast to the sound of his mirth – unable to hold back her own. She placed a palm over her mouth to muffle her cries, pressing down further with her other hand as if the gesture would make everything go away.

How had everything gone so wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo this was a really long chapter, with a really angsty ending lol! 
> 
> It's by far the longest chapter in this story and I feel like I could have done a much better job cutting it off at some point... but then again I really suck at estimating what portion of my outline can fit in one single chapter -_-
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! I'd really appreciate a kudos and some comments ^^


	14. Just Take It

"Draco!" Narcissa rushed to grab Draco's arm before he could walk away, ignoring the soot and grime clinging onto her perfectly tailored silver coat from the floo. She heard him let out an impatient breath, not bothering to look back at her.

"I'm fine, mother."

Narcissa moved to stand in front of him; her eyes landing onto a pair of blank cinereal orbs. She took his other arm in her grasp, holding onto him firmly. She would not let him lock himself up in his room after everything that's happened.

"You are _not_ fine. Talk to me." She glanced at the growing bruise on his neck, inching her fingers towards it. She flinched when his hand grabbed hers, swiping it away before she could touch him. She felt him try to pry her other hand off him, but she held on.

"Draco, why are you acting like this?" She felt him pause. His gaze on her was empty as he roughly pulled his arm off her grasp. He started to walk away, but she gripped the fabric of his suit jacket to keep him in place. "Don't walk away from me." She made him turn, forcing him to look at her once again.

"What is wrong with you?" She demanded, hearing him scoff; a few chuckles following suit. He had his eyes closed as if envisioning a fond memory he wasn't willing to share. She let go of her hold on his clothes, unsure of how to deal with him.

She'd seen him like this, more than a few times – out in the garden as he stared at the burned pergolas, sitting on top of the broken dining table in the ransacked main dining room, lying down beside the debris of the west wing drawing room. And the latest occurrence – just right after Lucius had strangled him to death. She could never get a serious answer from him whenever she would ask what had happened during the year of his house arrest.

"What's wrong with me?" She heard him reiterate in a whisper, laughing a couple more times before she saw him take a deep breath.

"What's wrong with me?!" He screamed.

Narcissa was taken aback by his unbridled rage. This was the first time he's ever screamed at her with such disdain. "Don't raise your voice at me! I'm your _mother_." She watched his anger shift into amusement in the blink of an eye, chuckling once again at whatever it was that he found so amusing.

"It's so convenient for you and father, isn't it? Using that excuse." He laughed again. "I'm your _father_. I'm your _mother_." He imitated in a mocking voice, flipping his arms out offhandedly. "Do _this_ , do _that_. _Listen_ to me. _I_ know what's best for you."

Narcissa stayed silent, not entirely knowing how to respond.

"You and father have the _fucking_ audacity to demand all kinds of things from me…" He scowled at her, shaking his head in disbelief. "When you were never even parents to begin with."

"Watch your _tongue_ , Draco." Narcissa glared back at him. "I will _not_ tolerate that kind of language-"

"Well then, you better be prepared to tolerate a lot more, _mother_." He threw a feral grin at her livid expression. "Didn't you say you wanted to talk?" He gestured his hands around the space between them. "Let's talk."

Narcissa said nothing, glowering at him and the annoying way he seemed to be goading her. She'd seen Draco do this to some of his friends, mostly towards the Crabbe and Goyle heirs, but never at her or Lucius.

"Nothing to say?" He looked at her pitifully. "I guess I'll start, then."

Narcissa watched him take off his jacket, chucking his cufflinks randomly to one side as he folded his sleeves up to his elbows. Her eyes landed on the dark mark on his left forearm.

Draco saw the direction of her gaze, chuckling to himself once again. "Oh don't worry, mother. We won't start with this."

Narcissa fisted her left hand, feeling the skin on her forearm burn at the sight of her son's identical mark.

"Now where were we…? _Ah,_ you were asking what was wrong with me."

Narcissa stayed silent as she watched him pace the small living room of their temporary settlement. "Where to begin… Where to begin?" She heard him mumbling to himself.

"How about we start with the fact that you and father were absentee parents throughout the entirety of my childhood?" He shrugged, as if he just commented on something as simple as the weather. "Sound good?"

Narcissa looked at him oddly, not believing he had the nerve to claim such a false thing. "We were _never_ away from you longer than a day, Draco. Meals were always taken together as a family. All holidays and celebrations-"

"Ah!" He cut her off with a clap of his hands. "I forgot to be more specific. Forgive me, mother." He bowed playfully, much to the annoyance of the Malfoy matriarch. "I meant, the fact that despite being in the same household, you would rather _pay_ people to care for me, than do it yourselves." He shrugged. "You and father never bothered to teach me anything. Aside from the idea of blood supremacy, of course." He chuckled to himself at the absurd irony of it all. "But you didn't even do that right. After all, Voldemort was a _half-blood_."

Narcissa felt her lips part at how easily the dark lord's name fell out of her son's mouth.

"I've lost count of all the governesses and tutors I've had." He sighed dramatically, recalling how his childhood years had been filled with lessons on almost anything under the sun, hardly ever seeing his parents until it was time for yet another quiet meal.

"I've also lost count of all the people you've fired for doing something 'highly inappropriate'." He paused to take a breath. "Like that teacher you sent away for wearing muggle clothing. The gall of that man! Walking right into our property with such appalling fashion." He rolled his eyes. "Or the governess you let go because she cooked me pancakes on my birthday. Merlin forbid that I'd be served food made personally by a half-blood right?" He paused, recalling how he'd been so confused why another person had suddenly been in charge of his etiquette lessons. After all, that woman was very nice to him. He had grown to like her.

"Then there was that elf you renounced because I grew quite fond of him and would spend time chatting with him out in the garden." He paused to glance at Narcissa, placing a hand against his heart sardonically. "So incredibly _unbecoming_ of an heir, right?"

He had grown so bored without any company that he would seek out the manor's help to come and play. He was only six then and he had no idea that the elf would face such repercussions. He never knew what became of the magical creature after that. No one would tell him.

"But nothing could beat what happened to Emily."

Draco watched his mother stiffen at the mention of that name.

"Remember her, mother? I'm sure you do. Even though you tell me time and again that you don't." He watched her avoid eye contact. "I wrote you a letter, remember? I told you that I saw her at Hogsmeade on my second year at Hogwarts." He walked towards Narcissa, stopping just an arm's length away, silently willing her to look him in the eye.

"She didn't recognize me. Didn't even _know_ me." He could still remember the look of utter surprise and confusion on the governess's face when he ran up to her for a hug. When he reintroduced himself, she said the exact same thing she told him the first time they met.

_You have a beautiful name._

Draco knew there was only one explanation how she could have completely forgotten about him. "What happened to her, mother?"

Narcissa finally looked him in the eye. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Liar!" He spat out through gritted teeth.

"I don't know a governess named Emily."

"Stop lying!"

"It's the truth."

Draco fisted his hands, done with tolerating all the lies. _Legilimens!_

_(Flashback)_

_"We gave you very strict instructions, Emily. It was very simple."_

_"Please, Mrs. Malfoy. Please."_

_Narcissa eyed the petite half-blood witch before her, crying as she stood stupefied. She took a deep breath, clenching her free hand against her side as she held onto her wand tightly with the other. She watched the governess eye the tip of the wood pressed right onto her forehead._

_"Please…"_

_Narcissa swallowed as she stared at the desperate eyes boring into her own. She felt an arm curl over her back slowly, one hand dangling onto the end of her shoulder._

_"Don't tell me you're hesitating, Cissy."_

_Narcissa kept her eyes onto the petrified woman whose gaze shifted onto the other person in the room._

_"Please Mrs. Lestrange…"_

_Bellatrix ignored the half-blood witch, keeping her eyes onto Narcissa the entire time. "Are you really going to let her get away with it? You hired her with utmost confidence, but she broke your trust! Feeding your son muggle chocolates and reading him muggle books?!"_

_Bellatrix raised her wand towards the governess, glaring at her with unabashed contempt. "Cruc-"_

_"Obliviate."_

_Narcissa watched as Emily fell to the floor unconscious. She could feel Bellatrix's gaze on her, heavy and suffocating. A hand was on her hair, stroking it affectionately as a pair of lips landed close to her ear._

_"I can't say I enjoyed the quick ending, but well done little sister."_

_(End of flashback)_

Draco recoiled at the slap that hit him square on the cheek. The brunt of the force made him take a few steps back.

"How dare you!" Narcissa yelled at him, utterly livid.

Draco barely registered the sting on his face, focusing on letting go of the sensation of his aunt's breath and voice over his ear after reliving his mother's memory. He struggled to hold onto his Occlumency as he tuned out his mother's voice. He could barely hear her screaming as he closed his eyes and focused on pushing unwanted memories back.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Narcissa immediately quieted down when a pair of blank slate eyes shifted back on her. His cheek, where her hand landed, was red and beginning to swell. Seeing it alongside the now bruised finger marks on his neck wracked her with guilt.

"How did she know?" Draco eyed his mother, fisting both his hands on his sides. Emily had been his last governess back when he was nine years old. He never told anyone stories about her for fear that she would end up leaving him as well, just like all the others had. "Aunt Bella. How did she know? About Emily. About the chocolates. About the books."

Draco watched his mother turn her gaze down onto the floor. He didn't really need her to tell him. He already knew how. After all, how could he not? It was always how Bellatrix managed to know everything about everyone. "It was Legilimency… on me, wasn't it?"

Draco felt a simmering in his chest at the sight of his mother's silent demeanor. He could feel the walls of his Occlumency cracking at the weight of his mounting fury.

Growing up, he would always experience strange headaches. They were as random and as arbitrary as they could get. There were no identifiable triggers – no definite explanations. No healer could diagnose what was wrong with him, and what had been causing it.

He was ten when Bellatrix had been assigned as his mentor in Occlumency and Legilimency. He was ten when he finally understood what all those headaches meant.

Draco felt the beginning signs of a panic attack engulf him, fighting it down with everything he had. But instead of the usual feelings of anxiety, this one was filled with hatred. Never before had he felt such an intense surge of rage. It was… suffocating. There was an inexplicable heat coursing through his veins, begging for release. The ringing in his ear was back; his vision blurring. He stopped breathing – forgetting how to entirely.

"Draco?" Narcissa called out quietly, raising her arms up hesitantly at the sight of him. He looked like he was trying to fight against the cruciatus curse. She heard him let out a long unsteady breath as he bent over – both hands on his knees, desperately trying to catch his breath. The movement caused the room to shake – topping over picture frames, rearranging furniture, breaking liquor bottles, and knocking off books from the shelf.

"Draco…" Narcissa called out again as she watched him shudder, not knowing what to do. "What's wrong? What's happening to you?" She could feel his magic growing gradually unhinged as he fought back against it, one breath at a time. She took a step towards him, stopping when he finally responded.

"I was _five…_ I was _five_ when I first told you she scared me."

Narcissa withdrew her arms, fisting her hands onto her chest at the strangled sound of his voice.

"I've told you… all the times I've woken up in the middle of the night… seeing her looming over me… on my bed… delving into my mind the moment I opened my eyes." He paused to hold in a heave that threatened to lurch out his chest. "All the times she would use Legilimency on me… across a room… scolding me to always be prepared."

Then she would taunt him of his memories whenever she could. He always hated heading back home after the school year because then, he would see her again. And he just never knew when.

Would she be there on the day he got back? A few days after? A couple of weeks? She would usually leave at the end of the day, but there were times she would stay over. And those were the absolute worst.

_Learn to hide them better, Draco. Or else I'll learn every single one of your secrets for the rest of your life._

Draco could hear her cackling in his head, as if she was right there with him. He kept his eyes closed, holding onto his sanity by a thread at the onslaught of memories he tried so hard to occlude.

"And… what did you say?" He pushed himself up, braising a hand against the wall so he could look his mother in the eye. "She's my aunt… She _loves_ me… I shouldn't be rude… disrespectful… That I should stop being so… _silly_." He took in a shaky breath, trying his best to drag down the bile inching up his throat. "You said she was teaching me… in the best way she knew how… I thought… I thought I was overreacting."

Narcissa didn't realize she started crying. She stayed still, letting the tears flow silently down her cheeks.

"But then… during the war… I saw you, mother… I saw you… You would always… avoid looking her in the eye…" Draco paused, winded by the sudden force of his wrath. "You were scared of her…"

Narcissa looked away, no longer able to handle the judgment in her son's eyes.

"You were scared of her too!" He screamed, unable to come into terms with the fact that his own mother allowed him to experience that same fear as a young child. "How could you?!" He looked at her accusingly, waiting for an answer. "How could you?" He asked again, this time through a whisper, as if repeating the question could help him make sense of everything.

"Draco, I…" Narcissa couldn't find the words as she stared at the hurt in his eyes. "I…" She shook her head, still not knowing what to say.

"Even when Voldemort and his army lived in the manor… you were just… you were always so quick to tell me not to cause a fuss… That I should just follow orders…" Draco's face contorted in pain as he brought his free hand onto his chest, grasping at his shirt as if the gesture would get the angry pounding of his heart to stop. "You and father… you both just never listen… Why wouldn't you listen?"

Draco glared at her silent demeanor, tired of not having any answers. "Why mother?!"

"I don't…" Narcissa kept shaking her head. "I didn't…"

"When I was told… I had to kill Dumbledore…" He paused to take in an unsteady breath. "I've never wished _so_ _much_ for you and father to stand up for me." He dragged his hand off his shirt, raising a shaky finger up in the air. "Even just that _one_ instance, mother… Just _once_ … Even just to ask for a reconsideration."

Draco could feel himself beginning to hyperventilate, but he wouldn't let himself. He was far from done. "But what did you… and father do, mother? Do you remember?"

Draco pushed himself off the wall, stalking towards Narcissa with quivering legs. "I looked at you!" He pointed a finger right at her face. "I was looking at _you_!"

Narcissa couldn't tear her gaze away from the broken look on her son's face, still shaking her head as if the gesture could take away all the years of pain and suffering.

Draco placed his trembling hands on his mother's shoulders, gripping it firmly to stop himself from losing control. "I was begging you and father for help…" He pleaded as he closed his eyes. "I didn't expect much from father… but I hoped that at least you…" He hung his head low as tears finally poured out of his eyes. "But you looked away… Mother, you looked away…"

Their lack of interference when he was writhing in agony, screaming from the bottom of his lungs from getting the mark… that he could let go. But not this. He just couldn't.

He'd never felt so betrayed and so abandoned in his entire life.

Draco fell to his knees, letting go of his mother's shoulders to grasp at the edge of her coat. "I just… I just wanted you and father to be proud of me."

He was always scrambling for a moment of praise, a look of pride – any form of approval. But nothing he did was ever enough.

Lucius never failed to give him shit every end of the school year for being beaten by a muggle-born in almost every class, not even bothering to note that he had been ranked second in his entire year. They've never even watched a single game of his in Quidditch, but they were always quick to send him a letter of disappointment the moment they hear of the results.

_How could you have lost to Harry Potter again?_

They never saw him as a son. He was always just an heir, a legacy – another name in the lineage they've been trying so hard to protect.

"Just take it. _All_ of it." He looked up at his mother who was still shaking her head at him. He felt her tears drop onto his cheeks, mixing in with his own. "My name, this blood, this ancestry – _everything_. Just take it all away, _please_! My life included!" He grabbed onto the fabric of her clothes, wishing he could just disappear. "Please just let it end! Just let it-"

Draco doubled over to one side, retching out the contents of his stomach.

Narcissa bent over to support him but he slapped her hands away.

"Don't touch me!" He crawled towards the wall right next to the fireplace, nudging himself against the tight corner.

"Draco-"

"Just leave me alone." Came his hoarse voice, barely above a whisper. "I can fix this." He hugged his knees against his chest, rocking himself as he took in slow breaths. "I can fix this." He whispered, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Draco, let me help-"

"Mum, _please_."

Narcissa couldn't remember the last time he called her that. Purebloods had been taught since childhood that colloquial terms were unsuitable for heirs to use. So she would always be quick to scold him whenever he would refer to her using that word.

_I picked a flower for you, mum! Look! Look! Isn't it pretty?_

_My goodness, Draco! Your nails are absolutely filthy! Why would you play around with dirt?!_

_Mum, look at me! I can walk on my hands! Look!_

_Stop that ridiculous behavior right this instant, Draco! It's improper!_

_Happy mother's day, mum! Look! I made you a sandwich and-_

_Who told you that you could do such a thing?! Who let you in the kitchens?!_

_Look, mum! I drew you and dad! We're having dinner! Look!_

_Draco, how many times have I told you to call me, 'mother', and your father, 'father'?_

All he ever wanted was for her to look at him, and yet she would send him away with nothing but reprimands and lectures on disgraceful behavior.

Narcissa watched her only son curled up in a ball by the fireplace, mumbling to himself, swaying slowly back and forth.

Where did she go wrong? What exactly had she done so wrong? She made sure to raise him like a proper heir – telling him what was acceptable and what wasn't, how he should behave and how he shouldn't – just as she had been as well.

_I never expected anything from you. Just try not to embarrass this family._

Narcissa swallowed as the words of her mother rang in her head, pushing the thoughts away as she moved towards Draco. She stopped a few paces from where he sat, kneeling on the floor, waiting for him to calm down. He finally stopped rocking, but he was still mumbling what sounded like random numbers to himself. He had his eyes closed and his face scrunched in concentration as he tried to pull the broken pieces of himself back together.

A fresh set of tears spilled from Narcissa's eyes, as she moved to hug her knees against her chest as well.

She was a failure as a mother.

* * *

"Date four out of sixteen." Hermione muttered to herself as she glanced towards the door of the VIP box. He was late. And he was _never_ late. This particular plan was something they had argued about relentlessly, and was something he'd been incredibly adamant about.

It was supposed to be their first 'official' public appearance – a date at a Quidditch game. She'd been against it entirely at first, arguing that it was still too early and that it would seem staged. But after he pointed out that they only had so many dates left, and that the transition was understandable after the Belby ball, it made sense. They needed to solidify the status of their relationship to the public before the contract ended, and now was the perfect time. After all, the rumors could only get them so far. It was time they gave the masses concrete proof.

She sighed. She knew she didn't have to do this. She could insist that they keep things private and secret for as long as possible, but she knew that wouldn't be fair. Not to him at least. She clicked her tongue, cursing at her conscience. Why did she have to be so righteous? For once she wished the Gryffindor in her would just shut up.

Hermione scanned the empty VIP box she was in, sighing in exasperation. It didn't mean he had to do it _this_ way. She sighed again, folding her arms across her chest at the feeling of discomfort. Being alone in a space full of empty cushioned chairs certainly wasn't fun. It was supposed to house ten spectators, but apparently, Malfoy didn't like to share. She rolled her eyes.

The sound of the heavy door opening made her turn her head around. "You're late! What the hell took you so…" She paused at the sight of his dead eyes and blank face. "Long?"

"I apologize for arriving later than our intended time." He replied, taking the seat right beside her. "What did I miss?"

Hermione folded her arms across her chest, angling her body towards his chair. She blinked at the dewy glow of his flawless skin, stretching from his face all the way down to his neck. Was he using glamour charms? She scoffed. She knew he put a lot of effort in the way he looked, but she didn't know he was _that_ vain.

"Malfoy, what's going on?" She watched him turn his head towards her – every bit the robot he had been just a few of months ago.

"Draco." He corrected. "In public we refer to each other by our given names."

"We're not in public." She rolled her eyes. "You made sure of that after buying out every single seat in this box." She motioned a hand towards all the free space.

"Someone could accidentally overhear-"

"Malfoy, seriously. What happened?" She narrowed her eyes, not at all expecting to be face to face with this version of him so soon. She watched him blink, noticing how even that simple motion looked odd on his face.

"I sent a letter to your flat a few minutes ago." He began. "It details certain things that would bring light to this situation. I ask for your patience."

Hermione watched him nod at her, not waiting for an answer as he turned his attention back to the game. After weeks of arguing with him nonstop, it was so strange to hear him speak with such a flat, cold tone. Every emotion on his face was gone, even the way his eye would twitch involuntarily when he was pissed at her insistence.

"I heard the Falcons and the Arrows are pretty strong this year. It's interesting to have them matched up this early on in the competition."

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "Okay, look-" A short announcement about an interval blasted throughout the arena, cutting her off. It seemed a player had been hit badly by a bludger, forcing the game to pause as the first aid team worked on getting him into their care safely.

"Oh, that's going to cost the Falcons."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. Was he seriously just going to act like nothing was wrong and make small talk throughout the entire game? She let out a long, slow breath. There was no point in trying to get anything out of him when he was like this. At least this time, she was sure she wasn't the cause.

She blinked. Or was she? She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. Was he having a crisis over the tainting of his image and beliefs by associating with her? No, that didn't sound right. He invested so much thought and effort in this fake relationship. There was no way he was having second thoughts now.

She began to think of what he could have written in the letter he sent her. Why did he have to pen it down? Why not just tell her right here, right now? She closed her eyes in frustration. He wasn't making any sense.

Hermione could hear the steady rise of cheers from the crowd, forcing her to look out onto the pitch. She raised a brow. None of the players were airborne yet, so what was the excitement all about?

"Why is everyone-" Her mouth fell open in shock when her eyes finally landed on the large, floating, pensieve-like structure at the top of the Quidditch field. How could she have missed it? She was fawning all over it just an hour ago!

It was the latest project of the Muggle's Relations Office – a simulation of the television. But what shocked her the most was the pink heart frame that bordered the image of her and Malfoy on the screen. She could not believe the bold letters written on the bottom of their faces.

KISS CAM!

"What's a kiss cam?" She heard him ask as he turned his head towards her for an answer. She heard the cheers get louder when the crowd saw them glance at each other.

"It's… a muggle tradition in sports." She sighed. "When breaks are taken during the game, cameras look for a couple to feature so they can…"

"Kiss." She heard him finish with that blank tone of his. "I see." He added as an afterthought. "Do you want to kiss me?"

Hermione shifted back slightly, tucking her chin into her neck at the blunt question. Surely he wasn't expecting a yes? "Frankly? No." She watched him nod in acceptance.

"I don't want to kiss you either."

She sighed in relief, glad that it was a consensus. "How do we get rid of it?" She heard him ask as he eyed his reflection on the screen. She glanced at the blinking pink frame against their images, snorting ungracefully at how tacky it looked. "We ignore it. It'll move on eventually."

"How long would that take?" She heard him ask again.

Hermione huffed at the screen, noting how annoyed she looked, while Malfoy's expression was a model of decorum. "Usually a few seconds." Whoever was operating that damn thing better hurry it up before she loses her patience.

"It's been a few minutes."

She rolled her eyes at his unnecessary observation. "You don't say?" This was one of the most annoying things about him whenever he was like this – the need to state the obvious. Feeling his eyes on her, she turned to raise a brow at him. "What?"

Hermione watched as he faced the screen once again, tilting his head slightly to one side in a gesture of contemplation. She narrowed her eyes. What was he planning?

Without warning, she saw him raise a certain finger towards it that had some people in the audience gasping out loud. No doubt most of them were muggle-born.

Hermione grabbed his hand, just as the camera veered off them in an instant. "Malfoy!" She eyed him incredulously, holding his middle finger in one hand while her other pushed at his forearm to bring it down to his side. "There are children here!"

"Got the camera off, didn't I?" Came his flat tone.

"How on earth…" She looked at him flabbergasted, not knowing what to feel exactly. "How did you even learn that muggle gesture?"

"Theo." Came his matter-of fact answer.

"Do you even _know_ what it means?"

"A penis and balls."

Hermione scoffed at him in disbelief. The initial mortification and panic in her chest shifted into amusement at the image of the Nott heir explaining to Malfoy just exactly what the gesture meant. She tried to hold her laughter down, but it was out before she realized.

"What the hell is Nott teaching you?" She asked in between giggles.

"He taught it to Blaise too."

Hermione continued to chuckle at the thought of the stuck up Zabini heir trying to comprehend how exactly the gesture looked like a certain part of the male anatomy.

"May I have my hand back?"

Realizing she still had her hold on him, she immediately let go. "Sorry." She watched him nod stiffly at her before turning his attention back to the pitch.

As if on cue, the game restarted once again.

* * *

Hermione eyed Malfoy from the corner of her eye as they headed out of the arena. "After their star player's injury, there was no way the Falcons could bounce back. It was an easy win for the Arrows." She heard him say, not feeling the need to respond. There was no point in pretending she cared about Quidditch.

"You've got guts to show yourself out in public, Death Eater!"

Hermione stopped in her tracks, scanning the area for the source of the voice. It was from a group of five teenage kids who were leaning against the viewing box up the next floor.

"Hey Malfoy, both my parents are muggle! Are you gonna break in our house and kill them?" A chorus of laughs followed soon after.

Hermione watched the scene before her in silence, not knowing what to do. She gazed at Malfoy's blank look, staring up at the group of children the same way he would glance at a random wall. He turned around to walk away. "Ignore them." She heard him call out as he held onto her forearm, pulling her along with him.

"My mum was muggle-born, you know! She died fighting you scum!"

"Fucking murderer!"

"You and your family should rot in Azkaban!"

What had initially been a hounding from a ragtag group of teenagers turned into a banding of the masses, chanting all kinds of insults at him. Hermione eyed the crowd in disbelief, digging her heels on the ground, forcing Malfoy to look at her.

"Are you just going to-"

"Let it go, Granger." She glanced at the empty look in his eyes disconcerted. How in the world could he still be detached? She opened her mouth to argue when something landed on the top of Malfoy's head, feeling bits of wet and sharp pieces hitting parts of her face.

Hermione looked at him stunned as he swiped at the raw egg that had just cracked against his temple. "Malfoy…" She could see a bit of blood oozing out the side of his head from a small cut, no doubt from the impact.

Never in her life had she imagined Draco Malfoy being the victim of bullying. And never in her life had she imagine she would feel… "Are you alright?" She pulled out her wand, scourgifying him quickly, when another pair landed on his shoulder and arm.

She turned towards the source of the projectiles, seeing the earlier group of teenagers throw her a condescending look. They were bouncing a fresh set of eggs in their palms, laughing at the sight of the blonde man covered in yolk. All five of them postured to throw another barrage onto Malfoy, when Hermione flipped her wand up, aiming the raw eggs right back onto their faces.

Draco felt something being dragged out from within him at the sight of Granger's back shielding him from all the hate from the crowd. He took in a shuddering breath, feeling his heart go a mile a minute at the sudden influx of emotions that flooded his system, nearly knocking him off his feet. He tried his best to control his breathing, completely disoriented by the sudden turn of events. He looked at the back of her bushy hair, wide-eyed, stunned and speechless.

"Stupid kids." She mumbled to herself, turning to glance back at Malfoy's suit, scourgifying the rest of the mess off him.

"You crazy bitch!"

"Muggle-born traitor!"

"You're seriously defending a damn Death Eater?!"

"Slut!"

Hermione turned to glare back at the immature brats with every intention of giving them a piece of her mind, when she felt a hand wrap around her wrist. She blinked at the sight of him, surprised by the amount of emotion in his eyes. Was he out of his occlusion? 

He turned around, directing them down the last set of stairs wordlessly, stepping out of the wards that prevented apparition.

"Malfoy, what-"

There was a familiar, uncomfortable pull at her stomach. In the next second, she was back at her flat looking straight into darkened gray eyes. The intensity of his gaze stunned her into silence.

"Let me be perfectly _clear,_ Granger." Draco fisted his hands to his sides as he clenched his jaw, swallowing down the urge to hit something. "All you need to do… is _stand_ beside me, and be _seen_ with me. Nothing more." He glared at the openmouthed look she donned with nothing but malice. The last thing he needed was to owe her a favor.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him in aggravation. She didn't expect any gratitude from him, but his fury was definitely unwarranted. She opened her mouth to yell at him when a thin trail of blood running down his temple caught her eye. She huffed, raising her wand towards him. His hand was around her wrist in an instant, stilling her before she could touch him.

"I'm not going to _hex_ you, Malfoy." She rolled her eyes at his defensiveness. "There's a cut on the side of your-" Her breath hitched when she felt him grab both her arms, pulling at her roughly until she was just a breath away from him. She stared at the livid look on his face, wide-eyed.

"I _don't_ need your _pity_." She felt, more than heard him, whisper right onto her face through gritted teeth. Gone were the heavy walls of occlusion in his eyes. They were burning like liquid pools of molten steel.

She couldn't bring herself to look away.

She yelped when he let go without a warning, falling onto the floor ungracefully, wincing at the impact. She rubbed the sore spot on her bum, clicking her tongue in annoyance. She snapped her head towards him to-

Hermione felt her rage double at the sight of the empty space that greeted her. "Stupid fucking git!" She screamed at no one in particular. What the hell was his problem? She didn't know what the bloody hell was wrong with him, but he had no right taking his shit out on her! She was just trying to-

Hermione blinked. Once. Twice. The realization of what she had just done suddenly dawned on her.

She stayed immobile on her living room floor, allowing everything to finally sink in. She… stood up for Draco Malfoy. She actually came to _his_ defense. Draco _fucking_ Malfoy. Bully extraordinaire. The bane of her _entire_ childhood existence. She blinked. She couldn't believe it. And she'd done it before she even realized.

She huffed, pushing herself up, ignoring the weight on her chest that was a strange mixture of confusion, disbelief, and something else she couldn't quite identify.

Her eyes landed on the owl stand by her window, seeing a lone white envelop sitting by the letter holder. She moved towards it, ripping it open, not bothering to look at the name of the sender. She knew exactly who it came from.

_Granger,_

_The Malfoy family Gringott's account has been frozen, effective yesterday. I recon it would be in your best interest to hear this announcement from me, rather than the news._

_Regarding the pay, there is nothing for you to worry about. The other half of your compensation will be transferred to your account, without delay, the moment all 16 dates have been completed._

_Malfoy_

Hermione let out a breath. So this was reason for the stick up his ass and why he was in a constant state of occlusion earlier. He still didn't know when he would get his manor back, and then this happens.

Where would he get the money to pay her? Would he loan it? Perhaps from Zabini. Or maybe Nott? Where would he acquire the funds for his daily living expenses? Was he able to take enough galleons out of his vault before its confiscation?

She blinked. Why did she care? It was none of her business.

The image of him covered in raw eggs suddenly flashed in her mind. The acceptance in his face, and lack of regard in his disposition, were things she could never unsee. He was just so infuriatingly proud and belligerent that seeing him that way just made her feel…

Hermione pushed the letter back in the envelope, chucking it into the fire place without a second thought. His affairs didn't concern her, and he certainly wasn't making her worry. She was _not_ bothered, not even a bit. After all, this was just a business partnership. It was nothing personal.

* * *

Draco cradled his head in his hands the moment he apparated back to his room. He had a splitting migraine that blurred his vision and dulled the rest of his senses. He walked slowly towards his bed, kneeling by the foot, leaning his forehead against the edge of the mattress. He fisted his hands through his hair as tightly as he could.

How could this have happened? How in the world could she have broken him out of his Occlumency yet again? And this time, she didn't even intend to. It was that same feeling of having something reach deep inside of him, hauling the entirety of his sanity out in the open.

He was back before he knew it.

Draco clenched his eyes shut, willing his mind to revert back. He didn't want this. He didn't want to be sane. He didn't want to drown in the noise again. He was so tired of suffocating under the weight of his past over and over.

_"Draco, look closely, son. If we are the ones to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord-"_

_"You'll pay for that one, Malfoy! Eat slugs!"_

_"I have to do this. If I don't he'll-"_

_"I don't give a damn what your father thinks, Malfoy! He's vile, and cruel... And you're just pathetic."_

_"Buckbeak! Oh you silly creature! Calm down, it's just a scratch... "_

_"That sword was meant to be in my vault at Gringotts. How did you get it?!"_

He focused on shuffling his thoughts back and forth, desperately stuffing memories back where they belonged; trying his best to organize the chaos that was his mind. He needed quiet. He just needed everything to stop being so… loud. Where did all the silence go? Why couldn't he get it back?

_"On the count of three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent. Only to disarm!"_

_"Ah... Well done, Draco. Well done."_

_"Professor Slughorn, sir. I just discovered this boy lurking in an upstairs corridor."_

_"Draco, years ago, I knew a boy who made all the wrong choices... Please let me help you."_

_"And you must be, Miss Granger? Yes, Draco's told me all about you... and your parents."_

The memory of her petite frame guarding him flashed in his mind. He could see the various shades of brown in the tendrils of her bushy hair as it buzzed with magic – magic that was meant to protect him.

The image of her gave him a calm he's never felt before. None of his memories had ever been capable of that. He focused on the outline of her back as he willed the rest of his thoughts to return to where he wanted them to.

After several more attempts to get his mind in order, his breathing was finally back to normal.

Draco raised his head up to scan his room, still slightly disoriented. The intense pain in his head dulled down to a tolerable throb. He turned around to lean against his bed frame, stretching his tired legs out on the floor. He dropped his head back on the mattress, closing his eyes to relish the moment of peace he fought so hard for.

* * *

Draco woke up at the sound of tapping against wood. He glanced at his position on the floor with his back to his bed, pushing himself up to run a hand through his face. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep.

Another set of knocks brought his attention towards the door. He sighed. The strange beats, and the incessant rapping could only belong to one person. He narrowed his eyes. Why the hell was Theo knocking? He couldn't remember the last time he had the courtesy to do such a thing. He would always just barge in uninvited.

"Uh Draco, I've dismantled all your wards and so… Well, I can come in whenever I want… But uh, if you don't want me to… you know, I can… wait?"

Draco closed his eyes as he stalked towards his sofa, silently calling over a bottle of firewhiskey. He flopped onto the couch, taking a swig directly from the bottle, ignoring Theo's calls. He tried his best to make himself comfortable; draping his forearm over his eyes.

"Draco, I can hear you shuffling in there. Stop ignoring me."

Draco said nothing, downing another mouthful of firewhiskey, wishing Theo would just go away.

"Okay, I'm coming in… I'm serious! I'm really gonna… Your wards are all down, you know. I'm not joking! I can just…"

Draco massaged his temples with the fingers of his free hand, trying to soothe the headache he was still nursing. He dangled the bottle of firewhiskey off the couch, feeling it bump against the floor. "Just get in." He mumbled, not wanting to hear the persistent banging against his door any longer.

Theo was in his bedroom in the next second. "You didn't have to make me wait so-" He blinked. "What in the bloody hell happened to you?!"

Draco popped one eye open, seeing the horrified expression on Theo's face. "What?"

"You're bleeding!" Theo rushed to his side, pulling the arm off his forehead to check on the trail of crusted blood running down the side of his temple. He looked at him wide-eyed, noting how one side of his cheek looked larger than the other. "And what the fuck happened to your neck?!" The pattern of those bruises could only mean one thing.

Draco closed his eye in indifference. It seemed the glamour charms had worn off. He completely forgot about the cut on his forehead as well.

"It's nothing."

"Like fuck it's nothing!"

Draco could hear Theo silently work on his injuries with basic healing spells. The Nott heir had always been good at fixing cuts and bruises. After all, he had himself to practice on for years.

"Draco, what the _fuck_ happened?"

"Why are you here?" He asked with his eyes still closed.

"I read the evening news." Theo crouched down next to the couch, crossing his legs as he sat on the floor. "I saw what happened at the Quidditch match."

"Hn."

Theo swallowed, eying the fading bruise on his neck. He wasn't all that talented at healing, but the spells he knew were always effective. That was unless the blow was a bit too… much. He realized that first hand when he tried to fix a bruise on his rib after his father occupied himself with kicking him on only one side of his body.

"You didn't get that injury at the stadium." Theo stated without room for argument. " _Please_ tell me it was from an episode of hot kinky sex with Granger."

Draco let out an amused scoff, surprised that he was able to laugh.

"Draco…" Came Theo's pleading tone. "Just-"

"I visited my father yesterday. He didn't like that I was dating a muggle-born."

Theo closed his eyes, dropping his head down to push a tight fist against his forehead. " _Fuck_." He raised his head up to glance at Draco's relaxed demeanor as he lay on the sofa. If it weren't for the dark circles under his eyes and the faint finger marks on his neck, he almost looked content.

"Hey, Theo…" Draco began; his eyes still closed. "How do I stop being so pathetic?"

Theo felt his lips part at the unexpected question. It wasn't often that Draco would be candid about his thoughts, but when he did, it was almost always heartbreaking. "Draco, you're a lot of a things. A total git being one of them." He smiled a bit when he heard a small chuckle from his best friend. "But you're _not_ pathetic. You were always the brave one. I was-"

"No. _You_ were the brave one." Draco turned his head to glance at the hazel eyes staring at him in surprise. "I was the coward."

_(Flashback)_

_Draco watched the Nott patriarch slap Theo on the back of his head, narrowing his eyes at the exchange. It was Theo's tenth birthday for crying out loud. Couldn't he spare him one day of peace?_

_"Do it."_

_"Father, please. I don't want to."_

_Draco watched as Theo was pulled from the sleeve of his shoulder, forced to stand in front of a grey cat locked in a cage. The Nott senior pointed his wand at the animal._

_"Crucio."_

_"Stop it, father!"_

_Draco placed his hands over his ears to drown out the screeching of the animal, watching Theo fidget in place as he begged his father to stop. When the cat's crying finally ceased, the Nott patriarch handed his wand to his son, tilting his head towards the wobbling animal._

_"Do it." He demanded again._

_"No!" Theo shut his eyes tightly, braising himself for another hit._

_"Draco."_

_Draco looked up to his father who had been watching the entire thing in silence. He saw the cane in his hand open to reveal the wand tucked securely inside._

_"How about you show Theo how it's done?"_

_Draco swallowed as he reached for his father's wand, shuddering at the magic that coursed through his veins the moment it grazed his fingertips. He could never get used to that feeling. It was like thousands of ants were shuffling under his skin, burrowing deep into his body. He looked up to his father in uncertainty. He'd done this once on Tobi, and the elf had been reduced to a bawling, quivering mess._

_"Father, I-"_

_Lucius tilted his head towards the weakened cat, not allowing further discussion._

_Draco took a deep breath in, casting the spell, wincing at the onslaught of the animal's screams. He withdrew the wand the moment a hand landed on his own, taking it out of his grasp. He looked up to see his father eying him with a look of pride. He smiled, feeling pleased with himself as well._

_When the two patriarchs started walking away, Draco watched Theo run towards the cat, pulling it out of its cage to check on its condition. He opened his mouth to mock him for being such a coward, but the rage in the Nott heir's eyes silenced him completely._

_(End of Flashback)_

"Draco, that's not true." Theo shook his head adamantly. "That's not true and you know it. You did the one thing I could _never_ bring myself to do. You stood up to my father. You were-"

"I'm not as good-hearted as you think, Theo." His saving the Nott heir had initially been born out of pity; but as the years passed by, it eventually turned into a superiority complex. "I did it because it made me feel better about myself." It was the same reason why he took Crabbe and Goyle under his wing. Surrounding himself with people he considered weaklings made him feel powerful and in control.

Theo kept his gaze on him, not believing a word he said. He wouldn't have risked that much if all he wanted was a quick boost to his ego. "That's _not_ true."

Draco tore his gaze away from his childhood friend's earnest ones. He stared at the ceiling in silence, drowning out the rest of Theo's assertions. He could never understand the Nott heir's skewed view of him. Why couldn't he see it? He had always been selfish, conceited, and patronizing. Everything he did, he did for himself. Never for anyone else.

"Back then, I always wondered why you were so resistant."

Theo quieted down, allowing him to speak.

"I would ask myself, 'why does he want to get beat up so bad?'." He closed his eyes, recalling the countless times he'd seen Theo take a hit from his father. "It was only during the war that I finally realized just how brave you were."

Theo held his breath at the sight of clear cinereal eyes staring right at him in reverence.

"You never did anything you didn't want to, even at the cost of all that pain."

Theo brought his gaze down to the floor, feeling his eyes prick at the sudden, unexpected praise. He shook his head in silent disagreement, not able to formulate a reply. He wasn't brave. Not even close. He was always just scared of making another mistake, of failing at yet another thing.

He just never wanted to try anymore.

"Hey Theo…"

Theo glanced back at the grey eyes that were still on him. There was a hidden sadness in them that he'd often see during the year of Draco's house arrest.

"Do you think… If I had refused my father, would I have been beaten up as well?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By now, you guys probably get that I have a thing for roller coaster chapters ^^ It's a challenge really – balancing humor and angst and everything else in between... But it's such a fun read that way though!
> 
> This chapter focused a lot on Draco but don't worry, the next one will feature Hermione ^^ Look forward to more backstories from other characters as well! Until next time :)


	15. Merit

"You're filthy rich, Theo! Have some shame."

"All I'm _saying_ is that I've been your best mate for at least two years now! I deserve some sort of incentive, don't you think?"

Draco groaned at the sound of bickering that drew him out of his slumber. He squinted at the light that flooded his eyes, squeezing them shut, rubbing against them with the bottom of his hand to soothe the headache he still had. Where the hell was he?

"Ah, my _dearest_ childhood friend! You're finally up!" Theo's cheerful voice resounded throughout the room.

"It's nearly noon, mate." Came Blaise's bored drawl.

Draco sat up, blinking at the two figures sitting by the couch set a few paces from him. He scanned the brightly lit room he was in, only then realizing that it was his own. He could see the curtains drawn, flooding the room with sunlight, changing the entire ambiance of the place in an instant.

Theo turned around the upholstered chair he was in to face Draco's confused demeanor; kneeling against it to prop himself up. "Listen to this, he won't give me a free pass at his restaurant!" He pointed accusingly at the Slytherin sitting right next to him.

Blaise ignored the exasperation in Theo's tone, opting to butter the toast in his hand evenly. "What he means by a 'free pass', is basically a free meal _whenever_ he visits."

Theo threw him an annoyed look. "It's the least you can do for your best mate!"

"I thought you were _Draco's_ best mate?" Blaise raised a brow challengingly.

"I'm everyone's best mate!"

"In _what_ universe?"

Draco watched them continue to argue with each other, completely forgetting he was in the room with them as well. He eyed the brunch sets on the table; the smell of sausages, eggs, marmalade and coffee was heavy in the room. He laid back down on the bed, pulling the covers over himself when he felt his eyes prick.

They were doing it again. They would always do this whenever he would have a particularly bad panic episode, or an incredibly embarrassing breakdown. He would always wake up the next day with the two of them in his room, eating or bickering or doing something else entirely normal.

"Hey, Draco! _Hey_! You see my point in this, don't you?"

"He's my business partner, Theo. No matter how you look at it, he won't condone a practice that would give the restaurant a loss."

Draco closed his eyes shut, ignoring the two other men in his room. He never understood why they would go so far for him. Why wouldn't they just leave him alone? There were so many other things they could do with their time. So many other things they could-

Draco yelped, chucking the duvet off his body, when he felt something wet brush against the sole of his foot. "What the fuck-" He blinked at the pair of silver eyes staring right at him from the edge of his bed.

"Meow?"

"Oh, I see you've met Juliet! She's very affectionate."

Draco looked at the creature – half horrified, half confused – as he watched it nuzzle up against his ankle. He flinched when he felt something fuzzy against the hand he propped on the mattress. Another set of identical silver eyes were looking at him.

"Meow."

"And that's Romeo. He's a bit of a rascal, and he can be quite a handful. But he's sweet."

" _Theo_." Came his warning tone. He closed his eyes in a silent wish, hoping the Nott heir didn't actually have the audacity to-

"They're yours!" Theo exclaimed excitedly, raising the rock-and-roll hand gesture he loved so much.

Draco snapped his head at him, eying him in incredulity. He watched Theo stalk towards him, holding a thick paperback book in one hand.

"Now here's a really good resource material for first time cat parents. I've given one to Blaise and Pansy as well. They've both found it quite useful."

Draco turned towards Blaise, seeing the taller man shake his head at him in a reluctant gesture of defeat. " _Why_?"

Blaise sighed, shrugging at the Malfoy heir's exasperated question, too tired to explain. Every time he would return the annoying ginger cat back to Nott manor, Theo would break into his wards and leave it in his flat every single time. It's been like that for at least two weeks until he eventually gave up.

"Oh come on, Draco! You've always wanted a pet since we were kids!"

"I wanted a _dragon_ , not this… puny little thing!"

Theo scoffed at the haughty tone he's grown incredibly annoyed with over the years. "Oh, I'm _sorry_. Do the tuxedo cats not suit your taste, _Master_ Draco?" He placed a hand against his heart, nodding his head at him snarkily. "Let me just hop on a broom then, and grab you a dragon's egg real quick! After all, it's not like they're _endangered,_ nearly _extinct_ species protected by the law, right? And it's not as if they're _deadly_ , _temperamental_ , and incredibly _territorial_ magical creatures as well. So it shouldn't be a problem at all!"

Draco glared at the Nott heir, frustrated by his propensity for sarcasm. He eyed the identical cats now making themselves at home on his lap, feeling himself panic. "I don't know the first thing about raising pets, Theo!" He felt his mattress give way as Theo flopped down to his side, offering him the book he had in his hand.

"Which is why you have this."

Draco took the glossy book, eying it skeptically as he scanned through the colored shiny pages filled with several immobile photographs. By the looks of it, he could tell that it was muggle.

Theo started flipping through the pages carelessly, forcing Draco to hold onto the covers tightly.

"I've placed these markers on the chapters that you absolutely _cannot_ skip."

Draco narrowed his eyes at the cat head stickers whose ears popped out the edge of the book. He drowned out the rest of Theo's yapping when he felt the kittens on his lap curl themselves into a tight ball, sleeping peacefully against his warmth. He blinked at the content expression on their faces.

He's never had a pet before, mainly because he wasn't allowed to. Lucius wasn't fond of animals and Narcissa didn't think it was a necessity. Only owls were permitted in the manor for their function and practicality.

Blaise eyed Draco, still surprised to see him quite… normal. From what he's heard from Theo and everything he's read in the news, he expected the Malfoy heir to be more depressed, volatile, or detached like he usually was after a particularly precarious situation. After all, Draco was the type to wallow in self-pity. It was always so difficult getting him out of a slump back when he was under house arrest.

They've tried the supportive 'talk to us' approach, which would be met with blank fully occluded eyes. They've done the angry 'why are you being like this' method, which resulted to walk outs and slamming doors. They've resorted to the tough love 'we don't care anymore' intervention, which brought about nothing but indifference and silence. In the end, the best way to go about it was to act like nothing happened, and just be there for him.

Blaise rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to lie. Draco was high maintenance as _fuck_. He just never knew what to expect. It's like turning around for one second, only to see all hell break lose the moment he looked back.

Blaise watched the two Slytherins silently, realizing how one ridiculous move from Theo seemed to have remedied the situation. He shook his head, chuckling to himself at how good the Nott heir was at meddling in the blonde pureblood's life.

He took a sip from his coffee, eying the two of them read through the manual. Draco's initial adamant refusal had turned into a begrudging acceptance as Theo instructed him on how to deal with his cats. He scoffed in amusement. They should seriously just get married.

* * *

Hermione groaned, stretching out on her bed as the sound of the alarm clock buzzed throughout her room. She reached towards her bedside table, feeling for it blindly when she knocked over several empty vials to the floor, hearing them break upon impact. She groaned again, pushing herself up the bed as she pulled her wand out from under her pillow. She vanished them with a wave of her hand.

Flopping back down onto the mattress, Hermione huffed one last time before finally rolling herself out of her bed. She rubbed her sleepy eyes, running a hand through her hair, wincing every time her fingers got caught in a particularly resilient tangle. With one more yawn, she willed herself to step out of her room.

Hermione paused by the hallway, stretching her hands up in the air, bending to each side to get the stiffness out of her joints.

"Good morning, Hermione."

She flinched at the unexpected greeting; whirling around to point her wand towards the intruder, only to be met by bespectacled green orbs.

"Harry." She called out to him breathlessly. Her initial surprise gradually turned into annoyance at the sight of him sitting on her sofa with one leg up over the other. "What are you doing here so early in the morning?" She paused when she heard the kettle whistle, watching Harry levitate it to his side to fill up two tall mugs by the coffee table in her living room.

"Do you feel like tea? Or coffee?"

Hermione rubbed a hand on her face as she walked over towards him. "Tea. Why are you here?" She watched him drop two packets of dried leaves into each mug, following up with a dash of milk and two cubes of sugar. She sat down opposite of him, tucking one end of her wand against the soft outline of the upholstered chair she was on.

"Here you go." He set the mug on her side of the table, saying nothing as he watched her take a sip of her tea, avoiding his gaze. He moved to grab a small black pouch from his pocket, tapping it with his wand to revert it back to its original size.

"What's that?"

He ignored her question, pulling out its contents one by one, laying them on the coffee table wordlessly.

Hermione felt her lips part as she eyed several issues of The Prophet filled with pictures of her and Malfoy. When there was no more space left on the table, she watched him lay the rest of it on the free sofa.

Harry placed down the latest copy right in front of her – their Quidditch date. "I was waiting for you to send me an owl to clarify things."

"Are you upset?"

"Is there a reason I should be?"

Hermione huffed. She hated it whenever Harry would get this way. He would always answer a question with another question if he was irked. She eyed the newspapers once again, trying to figure out the best course of action.

Harry sighed. He knew that it was none of his business. He really had no right to ask her to explain her personal life to him, but he just couldn't help but feel that something was… off.

"Are you and Malfoy dating?"

He blinked at the strange contemplative look on her face. She was glancing at him the same way she would glance at a particularly difficult ancient runes passage.

"Veto."

Harry felt his composure crash at her answer. "Wha- It's a _yes_ or a _no_ , Hermione! Are you or are you not dating Draco Malfoy?" He repeated in aggravation.

Hermione grit her teeth, gluing her eyes on him meaningfully, hoping he would get the idea. "Veto." She reiterated more resolutely this time. The nondisclosure contract wouldn't let her say no, but it seemed a neutral, ambiguous answer was fine.

Harry took a moment to think, scanning her face in scrutiny. His eyes widened and his lips slowly parted when he finally understood what she was trying to tell him. "Wait… It's not that you don't want to tell me…" He blanched, feeling nothing but dread wash all over him. "You _can't_." He watched her close her eyes in relief.

"Are you alright? What did he do to you?!"

"Harry, relax." Hermione held her hands out to calm him down when she saw him bolt out of his chair. "I'm not in danger. There are just some things I can't say." She stood up to place her hands on his shoulders, guiding him back onto the chair. "Breathe." Came her even tone.

"How do you expect me to calm down?!" He had both her hands in his, raising them up and away from her body, scanning her for any notable injuries.

Hermione pursed her lips in amusement at the panic in his eyes. "Harry, I'm serious. I'm not hurt."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?!" The realization of why she hadn't gone to him hit him, silencing him immediately. "Right, I was an ass who broke your trust and ruined our friendship." He had his face in his hands in the next instant, flopping back onto the chair chagrined.

"I wanted to. I just couldn't." Hermione reassured him, ruffling his hair affectionately before she moved back to sit on her chair. "All I can say is 'veto', Harry. So you're going to have to figure out what questions to ask, and what insinuations my answers could have."

Harry lifted his face up; a familiar feeling of determination burning in his chest. He wasn't particularly good at interrogations. He's had his fair share of reprimands from his superior officers for being a little too… passionate. But if it was Hermione, he was sure he could do it.

"So you're _not_ dating him?"

"Veto."

"It's fake? Pretend?"

"Veto."

Her answers sounded curt, firm and seemingly affirmative. He blinked. Varying the tone of her voice was absolutely brilliant. "That's very useful. Keep doing that."

She nodded.

"Let me just clarify. You're _not_ in danger. He's _not_ threatening you. And you're _not_ hurt in any way?"

"I'm fine." She reassured him once again.

"Okay, alright." Harry let out a breath, consoled by her conviction. "So I can only use yes or no questions." He crossed his arms on his chest, trying to figuring out what else he could ask to get a better picture of what she'd gotten herself into exactly.

"Did you have some sort of agreement? A contract?"

"Veto."

"Did you get into it of your own free will?"

"Veto."

The positive ring in her voice surprised him. " _Why_?" He asked before he realized.

"Harry." Came her soft but reproachful tone.

"Right, right!" He scratched the back of his head, annoyed with himself. "Yes or no questions only." He blew at the stray hair hanging near his right eye to release some tension. "So you're a willing participant?"

"Veto."

"And since you agreed, I assume you're getting something out of it?"

"Veto."

"Sex?"

Hermione eyed him in mortification, incredulous over the fact that he would assume such a thing. "Fucking _veto_!" She screamed in response.

"What? He was in lounge clothes fresh out of the shower the last time I was here!" Harry grinned at her indignation, raising his hands up in a gesture of surrender, when an unwanted image of her and Malfoy lying in bed flashed in his eyes. He gagged. "I'm never making a joke like that again." He rolled his fingers against his eyelids as if the motion could burn the picture out of his head.

She huffed at him, opting to take a sip from her mug to swallow down her irritation.

He sighed. There was only one thing he could think of that made sense. "Money."

Hermione was silent for a few moments, stirring the nearly stale tea in her hand. "Veto."

Harry felt his shoulders sag at the quiet, begrudging, but confirmatory tone of her voice. "I see." He huffed through his nose, pursing his lips in disagreement. "Why didn't you just ask me?" He watched her release a breath that told him she was tired of this particular conversation.

"Harry, you know I could never ask something like that from you."

"It's for your research, isn't it?"

She nodded.

"How much did he offer you?"

Hermione paused, realizing she couldn't voice out the amount. She clicked her tongue, thinking of a way to let him know. She raised a finger in the air, gesturing for him to wait as she headed towards her bag.

Harry watched her dig through it, pulling out a small purse that jingled as she headed back. She grabbed the copies of The Prophet off the table, chucking them towards the couch, before flipping the contents of her purse out onto the table.

Hermione sorted the currency accordingly, taking only what she needed. Swiping the leftover money to one side of the table, she placed a neatly stacked column of Galleons in front of him.

Harry stared at the golden coins, counting them silently through narrowed eyes. "25?" He eyed her incredulously. "He offered you 25 Galleons?"

Hermione glared at him, not in the mood for another one of his jokes. She watched him chuckle, raising his palms up towards her once again.

"Joking!"

She rolled her eyes at his immaturity.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, eying her imploringly. "Hermione, you know I gave Fred and George some money when they first opened their shop, right? I honestly don't mind financing you too."

She sighed. She knew he gave them his winnings from the Triwizard Tournament, but a thousand Galleons was basically chump change compared to what Malfoy offered her.

"Harry." She called out to him, pointing towards the pile of Galleons once again.

Harry saw the look in her eyes, narrowing his own when he realized what she was trying to say. "So he gave you 2500?" He watched her shake her head. "25,000?" His eyebrows rose all the way up his forehead when she shook her head once again.

"250,000?!" The look she sent him said it all. 250,000 Galleons was nearly the same amount his entire Gringotts vault had! "Where did he get that kind of-" He clicked his tongue. "Right. He's a Black _and_ a Malfoy." He forgot about the blonde's filthy rich ancestry for a moment.

"Isn't there another way?"

Hermione closed her eyes, pushing down the annoyance she felt as she watched him start to pace the room. They've had this conversation so many times already. She didn't understand why he couldn't comprehend that it was a lost cause.

"We could throw a party in your honor, mainly to spotlight your research. We could-"

"Harry." She let out a breath to reel in her frustration. "I've _tried_. You _know_ I've tried. I spent an entire year after the war just scrambling for funding." She looked at him tiredly. "No one offered."

"Well, maybe there are others we still haven't-"

She stood up to place her hands on his shoulders, hoping the firmness of her hold would get the point across. "I've talked to _everyone_ I could. Trust me, Harry, it was a _very_ long list. Nobody wanted to invest in something they were sure would go nowhere. Obliviation is irreversible. That was that."

"Lycanthropy was viewed that way until Wolfsbane was made. I'm sure we can find willing sponsors given the right motivation." He gave her a hopeful look. "I can help."

Hermione let her hands drop down to her sides, taking another deep breath in, telling herself that Harry was just trying to be supportive. He was just trying to stay positive.

"I already know what you've done, Harry. A few of the investors I approached were those you got to first. I'm sure you tried your best to put in a good word for me, and thank you for that. Really." She smiled bitterly. "But even then, nobody was interested."

If Harry Potter couldn't get her research any support, what could Harry Potter's _friend_ possibly achieve?

_Ah so you're Miss Granger, Harry Potter's friend?_

_Oh you're the friend of Mr. Potter that he's talked to me about!_

_You know Harry Potter? The Harry Potter?! Could you introduce us?_

_You're a friend of The Boy Who Lived?! I'm so jealous!_

_So what's it like being friends with Harry Potter?_

Her pride had had enough. She was through with begging for money from people who didn't even bother to hear her out, or care who she was. She's lost count of all the times she's been called to expound her research proposal, only to be told it wasn't necessary barely five minutes into her presentation. She was so tired of attending postwar celebrations to mingle with possible investors who were only interested in what she was wearing and _if_ she was wearing something underneath it; who she knew and who she was connected with, or when she and Ron were planning to tie the knot.

She sighed. She was just… done.

"There has to be another way."

"Harry, _please_. Just let it go.

"But I just-"

She sighed again, too tired to argue. "It's not like you would understand." She watched the expression on his face fall.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She held his hands in hers, squeezing them tenderly. "Harry you're wonderful, and talented, and kind and I love you so _so_ much… But sometimes it just gets…" Her hold on him slowly went from affectionate to punishing. "I just- It just feels…" She let go.

"Unfair."

Harry glanced at the tight expression on her face, not knowing what to say. He watched her pace the room, smoothing her hair behind her ears. She had her back to him now, hugging herself tightly around her middle.

Hermione closed her eyes, tightening her hold on herself to soothe the emotions that were threatening to overflow. "I fought in that war too."

She was right there with them every step of the way. She gave so much, sacrificed so much, and did just as much work as everyone else.

"I'm not asking to be put on a pedestal, and the _last_ thing I want to do is compete with you, Harry." She turned around to raise her palms up towards him. "I know it might come off as if I am, but I _swear_ I'm not." She dropped her hands to her sides as she eyed him fondly. "You deserve… _everything_ , Harry. All the acclaim, all the accolades, all the acknowledgement that you have now… None of those were handed. You worked for every _single_ ounce of it."

Harry looked at her in silence, still unsure of what to say.

"But, I deserve some form of merit too, don't I?" She placed a hand against her chest. "Is it too much of a crime to ask that? Is it wrong to be ambitious? To go after things that I want? Should I just be thankful with what I have?"

"Of course not." Harry shook his head; his gaze softening. "Hermione, I can't even begin to list… _everything_ you've done for me. For the cause. For the war. Even though everyone was falling apart, you wouldn't. You were always so calm, clear-headed and… just your presence alone was enough to assure everyone, _especially_ me. Without you, Hermione, I never would have made it out alive."

His words barely registered to her as she swiped at her eyes, fighting back her tears in anger. All she wanted was funding for her research. After the war, people were quick to support the rest of them while she got… nothing.

Why wasn't she acknowledged? Why did she have to work so hard for things that others got so easily? Why did she always have to prove herself? Why was the fact that she was muggle-born always an issue?

Why was she _still_ just Harry Potter's _friend_?

"During celebrations, I'd be asked what brand I'm wearing, what's in my bag, how long my hair and make-up took… while you and Ron were asked about your career goals, cases that you worked on, and where you see yourselves in the next few years. They would ask Ginny about her games, about her training, about her mindset... " She let out a mirthless laugh that slowly turned into a muffled whimper. "My research was _all_ I would ever talk about _wherever_ I went. Every party, every meeting, every gathering, every event… But the moment people hear me mention Obliviation, they brush me off." She shook her head bitterly. "It's impossible. It can't be done. There's no way it can be cured... They'd cut me off with those words. And so all you can read about me in the news… are my fashion choices and my love life."

_(Flashback)_

_"It's a party, 'Mione. Of course they're going to ask about your dress!" Ron bent down to pick up the small bag and the pair of shoes she chucked against the wall of their flat._

_Hermione spun around to point towards his suit. "Do you hear them asking you where you bought your tie?"_

_Ron huffed as he ran a hand through his hair. "Well, that's because it's uninteresting." He motioned a hand towards the sapphire ball gown she wore. "Your dress is far more beautiful."_

_"How are you not getting it, Ron?!" She stomped her barefoot on the floor in frustration; her voice hiking up several notches. "That's all they ever ask me!"_

_Ron glanced back at her, still confused by her aggravation. "Well, what are they supposed to ask then?"_

_Hermione looked at him in mortification, utterly stunned by his question._

_(End of Flashback)_

Harry watched Hermione pull the sleeve up her left arm, showing off the carved scar on her forearm. The healed scrawls against her skin were barely legible, but he didn't need to look at them to know what they meant.

"Is this still not enough?" She asked breathlessly, feeling her vision blur at the onslaught of tears. After enduring an entire war leaving her full of nightmares, trauma and suffering… It still felt like she was back to square one. It was like she never left.

She was still Mudblood Hermione Granger no matter what she did.

Harry moved to envelop her in a hug when he saw the tears finally run down her cheeks; squeezing his eyes shut when his own spilled out as well.

"It's just that… I feel like… Half of my life I've been trying to prove that I belong here. That I deserve my magic." She burrowed her face at the crook of his neck, clinging onto the front of his shirt. "How much longer do I need to keep proving myself? What else do I have to do, Harry?" She sobbed against him, feeling his hold on her tighten. "What else do I have to do?"

"Nothing, Hermione… _Absolutely_ nothing." Harry rubbed her quivering back, smoothing the top of her head with his other hand. "You've done enough."

* * *

Hermione glanced at Harry's back as he washed the dishes on her sink. She sighed. He was only ever a completely anal clean freak whenever something was bothering him. And the fact that he wasn't using magic to do so told her that he was stressed.

"Harry…" She heard him hum his reply. She stared down the freshly brewed cup of tea in her hand as she sat down quietly by the wooden four-piece dining set in her kitchen.

"Sorry."

She heard him pause from wiping a plate in his hand, bringing it down to lean against the counter. "Why are you apologizing?"

"Well… for feeling jealous of you, and for dumping all of that on you." She mumbled under her breath. She saw him turn to face her from the corner of her eye, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. "It was a horrid thing to do, and I hate myself for it."

Hermione stiffened when she felt a pair of arms hug her from behind. She could feel Harry nuzzle his cheek against the top of her head.

"Hermione, it was _not_ a horrid thing to do, and you shouldn't hate yourself for it." He moved to sit on the chair right beside her, keeping his hands on her shoulders. "Everything you said… It's true. I was there with you during the war. I've seen all your efforts… every single thing you did for the cause." He paused to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "And I saw how differently people treated you compared to me, Ginny and Ron, and it's… frustrating."

He knew people looked down on her because of her ancestry, but he never knew the extent until today. He just didn't understand why people couldn't see just how valuable she was, and how much potential she had.

"You work… _so_ hard, Hermione. Harder than anyone else I know. And you're so incredibly smart. Just _absolutely_ brilliant. Your charmed Galleons alone… without it, The Order wouldn't have survived."

"I know."

Harry looked at her nodding her head at him in a gesture that carried no arrogance, no superiority – just plain truth.

"Which is why I'm… with Malfoy now." The nondisclosure clause of the contract made her rephrase what she initially intended to say. "He was the only one who…" She felt another block in her throat, forcing her to rethink her statement. "Believed in me. No one else did."

Two years. She's tried to look for financial support for two years. But because she couldn't produce enough promising evidence, mainly due to the absence of subsidy, she was labeled as a potentially bad investment. It was a cycle that was difficult to break. The only answer to it was money.

"Despite all my best efforts, I've had two years of… nothing." Hermione looked down at her hands, feeling a fresh set of tears drop onto them. "In a few months, it'll be _three years_ since I've obliviated them." She squeezed her eyes shut at the weight of that reality. "I'm running out of time. If only… If only I had enough funding two years ago, I could have… I could have done _so_ much more." She let out a choked sob at the injustice of it all. "Maybe my parents would have remembered me by now."

Harry placed a hand on the back of her head, pulling her gently to rest her forehead against his shoulder, enveloping her in his arms once again. He thought about the letter that arrived from Professor McGonagall this morning, surprised that she replied to his inquiry so quickly and so decisively.

He sighed. Hermione was right. He always got what he wanted, and with barely any effort.

* * *

Draco glared at the kittens sleeping on his bed, annoyed that they found their way back to it again. He clicked his tongue. He just took a quick shower for crying out loud!

"I told you both several times already…" He levitated them with his wand, lifting them all the way back to the corner of his room and onto their delegated beds. " _This_ is where you sleep. Understand?"

Draco watched one of the kittens hop down its pillow, walking towards him to rub against his ankle before laying itself over his foot. "Get off." He ordered, nudging it slightly, but it made no move. He clicked his tongue, pulling the cat up from the back of its neck, secretly thankful he read this tip from the guidebook.

He checked its gender quickly, rolling his eyes when he realized who it was. "Juliet, I know I'm quite irresistible. But you seriously have to restrain yourself." He brought her close to eye level, glaring at her to get his point across, but all she did was lick him.

Draco scrunched his nose, rubbing the tip with the back of his hand to wipe off the cat's spit. Before he could chastise her, he felt Romeo rub against his leg, asking for attention as well. "Not you too!"

He grabbed the other animal by the scruff of his neck, placing both of them back onto their beds, transfiguring a tiny makeshift fence to keep them in place.

"Stay." He commanded, ignoring their soft cries for affection.

He walked away, wordlessly summoning a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand. He flopped onto his couch, calling an empty glass over, filling it half way before downing it entirely. He refilled his glass once more, this time taking a small sip, relishing in its taste and the slow burn it drew down his throat.

He eyed the two huge identical pouches on his coffee table, running a hand through his face in exasperation. Blaise and Theo had each left him some Galleons after hearing the state of his finances. There must have been at least a thousand coins in each of those packages. He clicked his tongue. He tried to make them take it back but they apparated away before he could even finish his sentence.

Draco leaned back against the couch, stretching his legs further out onto the floor as he stared at the ceiling. He cradled the glass of firewhiskey between his legs, running a thumb absentmindedly against the smooth surface.

He really doesn't deserve them. Up until now, he still couldn't understand why they stuck with him. He was just an anchor dragging them down. They got absolutely _nothing_ from him. So why were they still _…_ there?

Why were they always there?

He sighed in resignation as he closed his eyes. He felt his body melt into the couch, utterly bone-tired. It's been a while since he last felt this drained.

_"Malfoy… Are you alright?"_

His eyes flew open, blinking at the image of Granger at the Quidditch match scourgifying his clothes. He pushed it back to the recess of his mind almost immediately.

What the hell was that all about?

He blinked a few more times, unsure of what had triggered the memory. He shook his head, waking himself up from whatever stupor he was in before finishing the rest of his firewhiskey. He placed the now empty glass back on the table, sighing as he moved to lie on the sofa. He draped his forearm over his closed eyes, hoping for a moment of calm, when a melodious laugh rang in his ear.

_"Never change, Malfoy."_

Fingers cradling the sides of his face. A familiar fire place. _"There you are."_

The image of the ocean at twilight twirling in the middle of the dance floor.

The smell of cheap coffee and sugary treats. _"So what brings you to a food cart, Malfoy? This hardly counts as your go to cuisine."_

A pair of hands holding onto him. _"Do you even know what it means?"_ Another set of giggles.

Draco bolted up the couch, glaring at nothing in particular. "What the actual fuck…?" He focused on the thoughts floating in his mind, confused as to why his memories of Granger were at the surface. He pushed them far away, one by one, hoping he would be rid of her, when the image of the back of her bushy hair buzzing with magic stilled him.

He fell back onto the couch, pushing his palms firmly against his eyelids, willing the memories of her to go away. What was wrong with his head? Perhaps the fatigue was affecting his Occlumency, making it sloppy.

Draco let out a slow breath of relief when he finally succeeded in storing the rest of her back to the corners of his mind. He scoffed. Perhaps that raw egg hit him harder than he thought.

* * *

"Come in."

Hermione scanned the notes in her hand, not bothering to look up to check who was knocking at her door. It was a simple Conjuctivitis curse cast by a forlorn lover towards his wife's mistress who, in turn, cast _Calvorio_ , which the husband deflected onto his wife, causing baldness. The wife then cast _Expulso_ back at her husband, sending him flying out of their balcony window resulting to a few broken bones, a head injury, and temporary amnesia.

Another set of rapping came from her door.

"Come _in_." Hermione said more firmly this time, still eying the medical charts on her table.

This was supposed to be a pretty simple case, but since Husslehurf decided to be his usually bitchy self and put all three of her patients in one room, it turned into a fiasco. She sighed. She ended up having to deal with calming down two incredibly incensed women, and an utterly clueless man. She was glad that the mediwitch in charge took the initiative to confiscate all their wands prior to admission. She had no idea Gregory would be so spiteful towards her for supposedly stealing his eye candy.

She clicked her tongue at the sound of incessant thumping.

"It's open!" She responded much louder this time.

Hermione groaned, running a hand through her face for the umpteenth time that day. If one more person would walk up to her and have the gall to ask her if she was dating Draco Malfoy, she might just lose her license to practice.

She didn't expect the prophet and all the tabloids to go crazy over their Quidditch date. Everywhere she looked, that was what everyone was reading. What was wrong with these people? There were far more interesting pieces of news and literature they could busy themselves with.

Hermione grit her teeth when the knocking continued. She bolted towards the door, swinging it open to yell at whoever was on the other side, when a box of doughnuts met her at eye level.

"I come bearing gifts!"

She tilted her head to one side, eying the Nott heir in disbelief. "What are you doing here?"

Theo frowned at the cold reception, bringing the doughnuts down to his side. "Why hello, Theo! It's been awhile! How have you been? Would you like to come in for tea and snacks?"

Hermione blinked, unsure of what he was trying to achieve exactly.

"Why, thank you, Granger! I'd love to!"

She watched him walk into her office, settling down onto the couch as he set down the boxes on the coffee table. She blinked. Did he just have an entire conversation with himself? She shook her head, not believing his shamelessness.

"Those better have glazed ones."

Theo grinned at her, glad he read that article about her and Draco by the food stand. "Six glazed, and six assorted ones!"

Hermione sighed, shutting her door as she made her way towards the opposite couch. "What is this about, Nott?" She watched him roll his eyes.

"Must there always be a motive, Granger? Can't I just visit you for no reason?"

Hermione said nothing. She simply crossed her legs, folded her arms, and stared him down.

"Okay, I get it. You've got the whole 'intimidating headmistress' vibe down pat."

She said nothing, noting how her silence made the Nott heir uncomfortable. "Okay, fine…" She heard him grumble under his breath as he rubbed a hand over his face.

"You didn't tell him."

"What?"

Theo looked at her straight in the eye, noticing the confused expression on her face. "Draco. You didn't tell him."

"About?"

Theo blinked, was she being serious? "About me! About our conversation!" He watched her open her mouth in understanding, nodding her head, finally getting what he meant. "Don't tell me you forgot about it?" He eyed her incredulously.

"No, of course not." She shook her head.

"Then why didn't you tell him?"

Hermione raised a brow at the dubious look he was sending her way. "Should I have?"

"Well, _no_." Theo grumbled. He'd been at his wits end trying to figure out why Draco wasn't confronting him about it for the past couple of weeks. Not once did he assume she kept the exchange to herself. "But why didn't you?"

She shrugged. "I didn't see the need to."

Theo took a moment to just look at her, stunned by the offhanded way she addressed the situation. She could have used it as an excuse to go off on Draco again. It could have been a potential bargaining chip to ask the Malfoy heir for something in return. Or she could have just used it to create conflict between him and his best friend.

But she didn't. He narrowed his eyes, confused. Why didn't she?

Theo sighed, deciding there was no point in trying to scrutinize someone as straightforward as Granger. "I guess Gryffindors really are honorable and loyal. I should _really_ get myself one."

Hermione scoffed at the comment. "Again with the house references?" She watched him shrug as he flipped a box of doughnuts open, grabbing a glazed one out and taking a huge bite out of it.

"I thought those were _my_ gifts?"

Theo tilted himself back, tucking his chin towards his neck. "There are _twelve_ of them, Granger. You can't even give me one?"

Hermione crossed her arms, sending him a challenging gaze. "I didn't hear you ask."

Theo rolled his tongue in his mouth, amused by her impudence. "May I please have one of the dozen doughnuts I went all the way to the muggle world to buy so I can offer them to you." He deadpanned – more a statement than a request.

Hermione chuckled at his response, unsurprised that he wasn't the type to back down. "You went all the way to the muggle world… for doughnuts?" She watched him nod enthusiastically; his mouth still full of the sugary treat. She waited for him to finish before asking him something she's been quite curious about over the past couple of days.

"Nott."

Theo paused from wiping his fingers on a tissue to eye her. "Yeah?" He took a large intake of breath at the gesture she flipped at him. "Granger!"

Hermione popped a brow up at his scandalized face as she raised her middle finger at him in nonchalance. "You just _had_ to teach this to Malfoy, didn't you?"

Theo grinned at the memory. He could never get Draco and Blaise to do his all-time favorite rock-and-roll hand gesture, but he certainly got them curious about _that._ He would do it randomly with one or both hands, then burst out laughing to himself. Eventually they both caved and asked him what the hell was so funny. When he finally explained that it was a symbol for a penis and a set of balls, all three of them started snickering, randomly doing it towards each other as if they've discovered a secret spell no one else knew.

"They're quick learners, him and Blaise."

Hermione eyed the pleased expression on the Nott heir's face, intrigued by his claim. "You teach them? About… muggle stuff?"

Theo nodded. "Yeah. It was a challenge at first, but they turned around eventually." He shrugged. "I can be very persuasive."

Hermione raised her brows at him, nodding her head in agreement. She barely even knew him and he was already this insistent. She could only imagine how he was with the two other Slytherins.

"We're not… how we used to be, Granger." Theo cleared his throat as he looked down onto the floor. "I know that's hard to believe after everything we've done, and all the shit we used to say back in school." He ran a hand through his hair, feeling slightly restless. "I'm not claiming that we've changed… completely. I mean, it's _hard_. It's… unlearning everything we've been taught since birth. It's like a… a never ending process of checking in with ourselves, and figuring out what else we need to work on." He paused to finally look her in the eye. "It's difficult, but it's not impossible."

Hermione felt her lips part at the wisdom in his hazel eyes. She had no idea what exactly the Nott heir's life has been like and what he's gone through, but she had a feeling that it was far from easy.

"There's, uh, actually another reason why I came." He scratched the back of his head, feeling sheepish all of a sudden. "I wanted to… well, say thank you."

Hermione scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. "For what?"

"For what you did for Draco… at the Quidditch game."

Hermione swallowed, shifting her eyes sideways, nodding her head stiffly at him in acknowledgement. The fact that he knew their arrangement was fake made things even more… awkward.

"You stood up for him. And, uh, it's one of the things I've always wished I could have done for him."

She brought her gaze back to the Nott heir, seeing him don a sad smile as he glanced down at his shoes.

"So, thank you. Really."

She stared at the earnest look on the Slytherin's face as he smiled at her with gratitude. She nodded wordlessly in reply, not quite sure how to respond exactly.

"You know… If you guys ever decide to give the whole dating thing a real whirl, I'm all for it!"

Hermione blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in the discussion. She narrowed her eyes at how quickly his demeanor went from genuine to teasing. "Not happening." She shook her head. The finality in her tone offered no room for further arguments.

_"Heaven forbid! That would be the greatest misfortune of all! To find a man agreeable whom one is determined to hate! Do not wish me such an evil."_

Hermione gaped at him, completely flabbergasted by the fact that he just quoted a narrative from one of her favorite books. "Is that from…?"

"Pride and Prejudice, yes." Theo grinned at the openmouthed expression on her face. "Saw it in Draco's room. Your influence, I presume?"

She nodded, still wide-eyed. "Did you…?"

"Read it? Yes, Granger. I did." He almost laughed at her speechlessness. If someone told him before that all he needed to do was read a muggle book to get the brightest witch of their age to shut up, he would have done it ages ago.

Hermione cleared her throat, finally regaining her composure. "Malfoy is _no_ Mr. Darcy." She folded her arms across her chest.

"Why?" Theo challenged, smirking at the incensed look she threw at him. _"For he is such a disagreeable man that it would be quite a misfortune to be liked by him?"_ He paused. "Or perhaps, to end up liking him?"

Hermione raised a brow at his insinuation, annoyed that he was using Jane Austen's words against her. "I don't know what kind of image you have of us in your head, Nott. But I assure you, Malfoy and I are _never_ happening."

"Well… Who knows, right?" Theo shrugged offhandedly. "It's just that anyone who stands up for my best friend like that has my seal of approval." He wagged his eyebrows at her a few times, sending her a knowing glance.

"Stop that." Hermione couldn't, for the life of her, understand why the image of people wiggling their eyebrows simultaneously bothered her so much.

Theo widened his eyes in a mock gesture of ignorance. "Stop what?" He wagged his brows at her again.

She clicked her tongue. " _That_. Just stop it."

"I don't know what you mean, Granger." He placed a hand on his heart sincerely. "I'm not doing anything." He did the gesture once again, adding a wink at the end this time.

Hermione rolled her eyes when she heard him chuckle to himself.

"Can you believe it, Granger? The last time I was here, I was asking you what you've done to mess up my best friend. But now, I'm here telling you that if you ever get it on, and I mean _really_ get it on…" He paused to wag his eyebrows again much to her annoyance. "You have my blessing."

"Excuse me Healer Granger, there's- Oh sorry! I'll just wait by the medi-station when the rounds start."

Theo and Hermione turned to eye the petite mediwizard standing by the entrance of her office, bowing at both of them before he shut the door quietly.

"He moves like a mouse! The door is _literally_ within my field of vision! How could I not have seen it?!"

Hermione laughed at the hilarious wide-eyed expression on the Slytherin's face. "Well, you heard him. My rounds start soon, Nott, so you should go."

Theo blinked at her blunt dismissal, narrowing his eyes in displeasure. "Why Theo, this has been an _absolute_ pleasure! Thank you so much for the doughnuts, and I do hope I'll get to see you again soon! Take good care of yourself, and stay _strikingly_ handsome always!"

Hermione eyed him blankly. It seems he was incredibly fond of soliloquys. She watched him stand up begrudgingly to head out, only to see him pause after a few steps to glance at her again. She raised a questioning brow at him as he stalked back towards the sofa, grabbing another glazed doughnut out of the box.

Theo kept his gaze on her mockingly as he stored it in his mouth, walking away with half of it hanging out his lips.

Hermione snorted at his immaturity, but before she could say anything, he doubled back quickly, grabbing one more on each hand.

"Seriously?" She looked at him in disbelief as he walked back to the door, eying it momentarily, wondering how he would turn the knob with his hands occupied.

Hermione watched him devour what was left in his mouth, depositing one more doughnut between his teeth so he could use his free hand to open the door. When she saw him pause in contemplation, turning around once again, she moved to slam the box closed, pulling the rest of the doughnuts towards her.

She sent him a silent, warning gaze. There were only two glazed ones left for crying out loud!

Theo chuckled to himself. The dessert lodged in his mouth muffled his voice, making it sound more like a hiss.

Hermione heard him mumble something incoherent before throwing her a mock salute similar to the one Malfoy gave her back at her flat. She sneered at him when he finally stepped out of her office, closing the door behind him.

She could totally see now how he and Malfoy were friends. The blonde Slytherin was incredibly obstinate, while the dark-haired pureblood was annoyingly persistent. They were the perfect combination. She scoffed.

Looks like the ferret finally met his match.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Another Long Authors Notes (feel free to skip) 
> 
> This chapter holds a special place in my heart because not only does it signal the beginning of my Hermione's exploration, but it also draws parallels with a lot of socially relevant themes that I'm sure the female readers of this story can relate to. I presented it in the story as a bias towards her ancestry, but if we take a look at the themes in the context of our reality, it applies perfectly to gender bias. 
> 
> How differently male figures are treated in comparison to female ones by the media, and how normalized it is (You see this a lot in red carpet events, comic con panels, interviews, talk shows, newspapers, tabloids, magazines etc.)
> 
> How society views women who tend to be ambitious and career driven (Because they should be focusing on family building at around a certain age, and shouldn't a woman be supportive, nurturing, and caring? – "Behind every great man, is a great woman." *cue rolling of eyes because why oh why does she have to be 'behind'? Can't they just stand side by side?)
> 
> How people are quick to direct acclaim towards men (A lot of women have been removed from their rightful place in history because of the lack of recognition. You see this more commonly in the field of music, science, politics, and art.)
> 
> How easily the public questions a woman's credentials and the validity of their acquisition (Such as successful female artists who get doubted for writing their music. Or women who are belittled when they work in fields generally labeled as 'masculine' such as engineering)
> 
> How women are trained to apologize for being 'bossy', getting angry, demanding for something, or just expressing their opinions and thoughts ('It takes years as a woman to unlearn what you have been taught to be sorry for.' ~ Amy Poehler)
> 
> Now, before some of you start thinking that this is an attack on men in general, I'll go ahead and correct you on that. This isn't about proving or insisting that women are better than men. This is about pointing out how perceived gender roles affect us all, regardless of what we identify as.
> 
> We need to ask ourselves what are the restrictions that we place on ourselves and others, based on our perceived notion of gender. And why?
> 
> As children, we are taught not to ask difficult questions. Don't talk about religion. Don't talk about politics. Don't talk about abuse and mental health. Don't talk about sexual orientation and gender. Don't talk about violence, drugs, and war.
> 
> But instead, what we should have been taught is how to talk about all these things and actually listen to one another WITHOUT fighting. Without the hate. Without the ad hominem attacks and the cursing and the violence. Sometimes all you need is that one person who thinks a little bit differently, who challenges things calmly, and who asks all the right questions.
> 
> As this story continues to progress, I hope I can do my best to stay true to the message that I want to send across to all of you who continue to support it. I also want everyone to know that the comments section is open to whoever wants to express any realization from this story. (To those who shared a bit of their lives with me after resonating with some of the themes of this story, thank you.)
> 
> I hope you're all doing well in this pandemic and thank you for taking time to read this ^^


	16. Hypocrite

Ginny held her breath the moment her eyes came in contact with the expanse of the luxurious bedroom she was in. Turning around as slowly as she could, she clutched the duvet tightly against her chest, whispering a silent prayer in the air.

She let out a sigh of relief when she realized was alone.

"Fuck." She slapped a palm against her forehead, annoyed that she actually spent the night. How could she be so careless?

She threw the covers off her body, grumbling as she moved to grab her strewn clothes all over the room. It was all his fault! She clicked her tongue. Why did he have to be so bloody… _good_?

She dropped her clothes by the bathroom's vanity area, stepping into the shower to rinse away all evidence of him; ignoring the ache between her legs that served as a reminder of her indiscretion.

She already accepted the fact that this was something she wanted. Heck, she even went as far as negotiating the schedule of their trysts so it wouldn't get in the way of her training. But he just never failed to infuriate her every single time.

Sometimes it would be a short, offhanded comment. Other times it would be a small, seemingly insignificant gesture. But most of the time, it was the annoying way he would chuckle while his fingers worked against her-

She scrubbed her hair furiously at the thought. It wasn't enough that he was already good looking, he just had to be unfairly talented at _that_ as well. She rolled her eyes. Now if only she could get him to shut up long enough to forget that it was him who was buried deep inside her, making her shudder with every move of his sinful body. She huffed.

It was never like this with Harry.

Her hands fell down to her sides, closing her eyes as the scalding water rained down on her. With Harry she felt safe, loved, and cherished. Everything felt so organic – so natural, so effortless. There were no second thoughts – no doubts, no fears.

With Harry, she was sure.

But what good did that do her? She envisioned the rest of her life with him in it every step of the way, only to be left hanging without a single warning.

He was in all of her plans… _their_ plans. Plans that they stayed up late at night drafting until the sun came up before they even realized. Promises they exchanged when it was just the two of them, hoping they would get out of the war alive and live long enough to watch their grandchildren step through platform 9¾.

They talked about travelling the world together. They talked about the possibility of eventually living in Grimmauld when they tie the knot. They talked about getting a pet – he wanted a dog, she wanted a cat. So they decided to get one of each. They talked about having a home garden since she was used to having one growing up. Fresh vegetables always tasted the best after all.

He told her he would buy a car, and that he would drive her around Paris one day to show her the Eiffel tower. He told her he would take her to ride a plane, so she could experience how muggles fly. He told her he would bring her to the movies, so she could understand how ingenious muggles could be. He told her he would let her witness a live band, so she could finally appreciate what the entire wizarding world was missing.

He told her… so many things. Promised her… so much more.

But in the end, none of it came true.

_I'm sorry, Gin. I'm sorry. I just- I can't. I can't do this. Not anymore._

Ginny turned off the shower, grabbing a warm folded towel from the rack on the wall, drying herself off.

Never again would she let herself be put in that position. Never again would she allow herself to hand over her future to someone who might not be there when she woke up the next morning. Never again will she plan her life around a man who would only give her empty promises and meaningless words.

_Never again._

She stood in front of the floor length mirror, letting the edge of her damp hair drip onto the tiled floor. She eyed the bruises on her body, all the little cuts and scrapes on her skin, no doubt from the countless drills during training, and all games she's played so far.

She looked at the toned muscles of her arms, abs and legs. She stared at her calloused palms and battered fingernails – not looking at all like the hands of maiden. She fisted them tightly, staring back at her reflection on the mirror.

She grinned, proud of all the hard work she put into her passion. This was who she was, and this was who she would be.

From now on, she was flying solo.

Ginny moved to grab another fresh towel, wringing it around her hair to keep it out of place. She pulled on her clothes, taking one last look on the mirror, winking at herself before she stepped out of the bath.

Tugging the towel off her hair and chucking it to one side of the room, she grabbed her wand, muttering a quick drying spell onto her tresses. She ran a hand through it absentmindedly as she collected the rest of her belongings.

Slinging her small clutch over her shoulder, she gave the hotel room one more look to make sure she had everything she needed. She nodded, turning around to head out through the door.

"Took your time, Weasley."

Ginny failed to stop her mouth from falling open at the sight of what greeted her. There, sitting on the dining set by the glass wall, was Blaise _fucking_ Zabini, looking utterly picturesque against the morning sunshine.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at her stunned expression, slicing through the remains of his Eggs Benedict gracefully. "What?"

"What are you doing?" Came her incredulous tone as she eyed the platters scattered on the table. She felt her mouth water at the sight of bacon, eggs, and French toast. The smell of freshly brewed tea was heavy in the room.

"Eating." He replied nonchalantly, unsure why she asked such an obvious question. He rolled his eyes, pointing his knife towards the unused tableware across him.

Ginny blinked at the gesture. Was he seriously offering her breakfast?

When he realized she made no move, he placed his cutlery down against his plate, eying her tiredly. "We missed the portkey. I'm having another set sent over, so there's no point in rushing out."

Ginny shook her head, trying to ignore the surreal feeling of it all. "I'm not hungry."

"Fine then. Suit your-"

The sound of her rumbling stomach echoed through the room.

Ginny closed her eyes in mortification. Her monstrous appetite just _had_ to make an appearance, now of all times. She glanced back at him, feeling her face grow hot at the sight of his shaking shoulders. He had his head turned away, and he wasn't making any sound, but she was sure he was laughing at her expense.

"Don't hold back on my account, Weasley!" He finally called out to her, trying his best to swallow his chuckles.

Annoyed at his amusement, she stalked towards the table, eying his impeccable table manners with disdain. She flopped onto the chair, not bothering to straighten a napkin on her lap, as she scooped out one article of food after another. Her plate was overflowing in no time.

She grinned at the disgusted look on his face as she stuffed spoonfuls of crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and marmalade-filled toast into her mouth.

Blaise swallowed, unable to control the look of revulsion on his face. "Real sexy." He deadpanned.

Ginny raised a brow in his direction, undeterred by his displeasure. She dropped the heavy spoon on her plate, watching him wince at the sound in annoyance. She grabbed the serving ladle off the bowl of mashed potatoes, eating a huge chunk out of it directly.

"You don't need to prove how much you can fit in your mouth, Weasley. I already know."

She choked, spitting chunks of food across the table.

Blaise felt nothing but mortification the moment he sensed the projectiles land onto his face and suit. "You're bloody disgusting!" He grabbed a tissue from the table, dabbing it onto his face and clothes, hoping it wouldn't stain. He mumbled the rest of his complains under his breath, ignoring her coughing fits as she tried to swallow down a glass of water.

"You're a fucking pig!" Ginny yelled back at him, grabbing the table napkin on her side to wipe the grease off her fingers.

There he was again! Annoying the shit out of her with one perfectly timed, perfectly placed remark.

She pushed her chair back, making sure to scrape it loudly against the floor, before she stormed off towards the door.

"What? No thank you for the food?"

She turned around swiftly, sending him a mocking curtsy. "Thank you for the food, you bloody git!"

Blaise raised a brow at her insolence, raking his eyes through her body slowly before landing back onto her wide brown eyes. He smirked.

"Thank _you_ for the food."

Ginny opened her mouth to retort, but she couldn't, for the life of her, think of a single thing to say. The lustful way his eyes scanned her body, and the smoldering gaze he was sending her way, made it difficult to think.

She huffed as she stomped out of the hotel suite, muttering curses at him, every bit annoyed for being turned on.

* * *

Pansy stepped out of her office, not bothering to hide her annoyance at her secretary's incompetence. Sure he had a good work ethic, and he had impeccable taste in shoes, but his high-heeled Louboutins did nothing for his _shit_ working memory.

She'd forgotten that he could only take a total of three instructions at a time. Any more than that would increase the likelihood of him forgetting at least one of those orders. She scoffed. This time, it had been her car service.

She marched down the steps of her boutique, feeling her irritation double at the sight of the bothersome Gryffindor she was sure she'd finally shaken off after weeks of silence.

"I am not in the mood, Potter." She stopped on the second step of the stairs, making sure she had the height leverage. "I will _cut_ you."

Harry blinked at the livid expression on her face, not quite sure why it amused him. "Good evening to you too, Parkinson. I see you've had a rough day."

"Don't talk to me." She raised a palm towards him in dismissal, walking away as quickly as she could.

Out of all the days she could lose her car service, it just had to be today. She clicked her tongue. She didn't have time for this. She was too busy trying to grow her brand into a multimillion pound empire for crying out loud.

"I was wondering if you're free for dinner."

She flinched at the sound of his voice, only now realizing he'd been following her the whole time. She felt her nerves bristle at the sight of the relaxed expression on his face.

"What?"

"Dinner." He shrugged. "I wanted to-"

"I'll be frank, Potter." She faced him head on – one hand on her hip, the other bent to cradle the strap of her bag against the crook of her elbow. "Are you trying to date me?"

Harry blinked, feeling his lips part at the audacity of her claim. He snorted ungracefully, eying her like he would a madwoman. "You wish, Parkinson."

" _Good_." Pansy placed a hand against her heart, sighing in relief. "Because I'm telling you now, Potter. You are _definitely_ not my type."

Harry eyed her in disbelief, allowing himself to scoff in amusement. "The feeling is mutual, Parkinson. I just wanted to thank you for… well, helping me figure things out." He shrugged again, eying her earnestly.

Pansy scanned him dubiously, trying to discover what his angle was. She remembered reading about his resignation in the papers, and how he was currently unemployed. "And what exactly did I help you figure out?" She narrowed her eyes, watching him turn his gaze sideward in contemplation.

"It's a secret for now." He grinned, pocketing his hands into his jeans.

She rolled her eyes, walking away from him. Why the hell was he acting coy? "And yet people call me a drama queen." She whispered to herself, with every intention of letting him overhear.

Pansy glanced at him oddly when she realized he continued to walk alongside her in silence. He was paying her no heed as he strolled through the streets, eying their surroundings curiously. She decided to ignore him, hoping he would get the hint and leave her alone.

Pansy paused at the intersection, waiting for the lights to signal that it was safe to cross. She eyed the muggles standing across her, holding their phones against their ears as several cars drove past them on the street. She took notice of the tall buildings within the vicinity, blinking at the huge screens plastered against them flashing advertisements, when an airplane flying overhead caught her attention.

_Look around you, Pansy. We're surrounded by the finest form of wandless magic. How are you not in awe?_

She sneered at the sound of Theodore Nott's voice in her head. She did _not_ need to remember him now of all times. She was growing tired of rebelling against his incessant requests of watching a film with him. She already tried every protective charm she could find, but no matter what she did, he would always be there in her flat once every week, asking if she was finally ready to have their movie night.

Pansy stomped through the pedestrian lane, annoyed at how deeply the Nott heir kept worming himself into her life. This was all Blaise's fault! If she would have to suffer through at least an hour of muggle moving pictures, then she would drag him along with her.

"Why the muggle world?"

Pansy paused when they reached the other end of the street. "What?" She watched him shrug once again. What was with him and his affinity towards that annoying flippant gesture?

"Why are you in the muggle world, of all places?"

She eyed him oddly. Why did he want to know? "I just am." She rolled her eyes, replying with a resolution that allowed no further discussion.

They continued to walk in silence – her trying to find the closest apparition point, while he… well, did whatever the hell he was trying to do.

_What is it with you and your dislike for anything muggle?_

Pansy grumbled when another one of the Nott heir's questions rang in her ear. She huffed, pausing in her steps to glance at the wide-eyed expression on the Golden Boy's face.

"What?" Harry stared at the pensive look the Slytherin threw at him, trying to decipher what was going through her head exactly.

"Potter, you were…" Pansy cleared her throat, sauntering through the street, trying her best to appear nonchalant. "You were raised by muggles, right?"

"Yes…?" He answered, not quite sure where the conversation was going. He watched her tuck an imaginary strand of hair against her ear, flipping the rest of her straight black tresses onto her back.

"And you only found out about magic when you were…?"

"Well, just before I enrolled at Hogwarts actually."

"Right. Right." She nodded her head.

Harry said nothing, matching the pace of her footsteps as they walked through the cobbled streets. He glanced at her feet, wondering how she managed to move so gracefully with those pointed heels pushing against her soles. He shook his head. What an impractical choice of footwear.

"So… How did you… You know, how did you feel when…" She gestured her hands out randomly as she tried to make her point. "When you found out that there's this… whole new world you never thought existed? That there's this… place full of people and things that you never imagined could be real?"

Harry fought the grin itching to crawl up his face, having an inkling as to what she was trying to indicate exactly. "Well, to be perfectly honest?" He stopped in his tracks, prompting her to pause as well. "I was thrilled."

Her shoulders sagged at his answer. "Right. I forgot I was talking to a Gryffindor for a moment." She rolled her eyes, turning to walk away once again. "Forget I said anything." She flinched when he moved to block her way in an instant.

"No, no. Go on." He nodded at her. "I want to hear the rest of it."

Pansy let out a tired sigh. "Forget it, Potter." She stepped to the side, annoyed when he mimicked the motion. She moved as quickly as she could to avoid him, but wherever she turned, he was right there in front of her. She huffed at him in frustration.

"I'm serious, Parkinson. I want to hear it."

She huffed once again, crossing her arms in aggravation. "Muggles don't believe in magic, and werewolves, and witches, and elves, and everything else in between." She paused to narrow her eyes at him. "Why was it so easy for you to just… accept everything?" She watched him nod at her in agreement, utterly confused by the gesture.

"It's true I wasn't taught to believe in them growing up. Everything about magic in the muggle world is folklore and fantasy. It's not real." He shrugged, bringing his hands into his pockets once again. "But the thing is, I wasn't taught to fear them, hate them, or think I was superior or inferior to them in any way." He paused to glance at her meaningfully, noticing how her eyes widened for a fraction. "So I had nothing but curiosity for the things I had yet to see and understand."

Pansy swallowed, torn between wanting to hear more of his point of view and bolting out of his sight for being found out. She eyed him in silence, finally understanding where the stark difference in their perspectives stemmed from.

She watched him fumble through the pockets of his coat, pulling out a worn-down receipt and a ballpoint pen. She furrowed her brows as he scribbled something onto the back of the tiny sheet.

Harry took her hand in his, flipping her palm open to deposit the crumpled paper in her grasp. "If you ever want to know more about the muggle world, I'd be happy to help."

Pansy eyed the carelessly scrawled name and number in her hand, surprised by his response.

"But only if you're willing." He shrugged again. "After all, it's not like I can change the way you think." He paused for a moment to search her gaze. "Only you can do that. No one else can."

Pansy couldn't think of a reply as she stared at the paper in her hand once again, noticing him start to walk away. She watched his retreating back until he reach the end of the street.

Harry turned around at the last second to wave his goodbye, before finally rounding a corner, disappearing from her line of sight.

* * *

"So… What was that last minute portkey all about?"

Blaise glared at the grinning Nott heir lounging on his living room sofa with a glass of wine in one hand. He grumbled. Did he open another one of his bottles?

"That better not be my 1979 Cabernet Sauvignon." He glared at Theo, eying the blood colored liquid he was swirling carelessly in his hand. The shrug he got in return made him grow even more indignant.

"I didn't say anything about all the other portkey requests, but this one definitely got me curious." Theo grinned, taking a sip of the delicious liquor in his hand, not bothering to note its year or name. Blaise could always get another bottle of whatever it was after all. "An all-nighter that stretched all the way until breakfast?" He raised a brow. "That doesn't sound like you."

Blaise grabbed an empty goblet for himself, pouring a generous amount of wine into it, groaning when he realized it was his 1985 Bordeaux. "It's none of your business, Theo." He let out a long exasperated breath as he flopped down onto the opposite couch.

Why was the Nott heir such an insufferable gossip?

"Ah, but it is my business. After all, it's _my_ unregistered portkeys you're using." Theo shrugged. "So out with it. Who's this mystery person that's gotten you so prickly?" He watched Blaise hide behind his glass, grumbling under his breath.

"No one."

Theo rolled his eyes. He was worse than Draco when it came to denial. "Someone's caught feelings." He teased. The glare Blaise sent him made him grin. Could he be more obvious?

"As if! That woman doesn't have a single charming bone in her body!"

"So there _is_ a woman."

Blaise quieted down immediately, annoyed by his slip.

Theo narrowed his eyes. The Zabini heir was usually so courteous and charming towards the ladies. This was the first time he's ever heard him insult one so blatantly. "What's her name?" He asked in a singsong tone, leaning towards the coffee table that separated them.

Blaise ignored him, casually sipping the wine in his hand in silence.

Theo hummed in speculation at the lack of a response, and the avoidance of his gaze. "I'm guessing I know her, but for some reason, you don't want to tell me who she is." He folded his arms across his chest. Now he _really_ wanted to know.

"Come on… Out with it. You know you want to."

Blaise raised a brow at his assumption, not bothering to offer him a reply.

Theo sighed at his tight-lipped friend as he leaned back against the couch. "I guess I could always make an extra portkey for myself. You know, just to see what the secrecy is all about."

Blaise eyed him in mortification. "You _wouldn't_." Came his incredulous tone. The ambivalent shrug he got as a reply made him run a hand against his face. Fuck Theo and his fucking meddling ways. Why couldn't he just stick to pestering Draco?

"So?" Theo smirked, feeling the other Slytherin's resolve crumble at his well-placed threat.

"Weasley."

Theo blinked at the mumbled whisper that barely reached his ears. He slammed his glass onto the table, raising both palms up to steel himself. "Wait, did you say… _Weasley?"_ He watched Blaise glance down at the carpet as if it was the most interesting thing in the room.

"Just to be _absolutely_ sure, which Weasley are we talking about?"

Blaise snapped his head up to glare at the Nott heir in annoyance. "The youngest one!"

Theo's mouth fell wide open, shaking his head at the hilarity of it all. "Ginevra _knocked-you-off-your-broom-with-a-bludger_ Weasley?!" He was laughing out loud at this point, wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes.

Blaise clicked his tongue. This was exactly the reason why he never shared his personal life with Theo.

"Oh this is hilarious! We _have_ to tell Draco!"

"Like _hell_ you will!"

"This is- I can't even-" Theo was dying with laughter now. "Him with Granger and you with Weasley?! What alternate universe have I entered?!" He kept chuckling to himself, falling all over the couch, clutching his stomach in an attempt to dull the cramp that was beginning to form. "So… how are you… planning to… sweep her off her feet?" He asked in between huffs of poorly contained amusement.

Blaise seethed silently to himself, wishing Theo would just shut up. He already had half a mind of shoving the bottle of Bordeaux down his throat.

"You're such a bloody romantic!"

"I am _not_!"

"Yes you are!" Theo pointed an accusatory finger right at him. "Portkeys to five star hotels all over the world, just for a quick shag? You could have just popped it in and out at some dark back alley if the sex was all you wanted!" He shook his head in disbelief. "You act all cold, brooding and mysterious, but deep down you're all _mushy_ and _gooey_!"

"Oh shut the fuck up, Theo!"

"It's true!" Theo slapped his palms against his thighs to emphasize his point. "You're one of the most paradoxical people I've ever met!" He swiped at his eyes once again, small peals of laughter still bubbling out of his chest. "Next to Draco, of course." He rolled his eyes. No one could beat the Malfoy heir when it came to incongruity.

Blaise said nothing, opting to refill his glass to the brim. If he was going to tolerate an entire evening with Theo, there was no way he would do it sober.

Theo glanced at Blaise's irate form, still amused by the entire thing. He didn't understand his need to act like a fuckboy when in fact, he was a gentleman through and through. He wasn't the kind of guy who would go for a quickie at some random bathroom stall. He was the wine and dine type no matter how hard he denied it.

Theo could tell that Blaise's chivalrous ways stemmed from the Zabini matriarch's influence. After all, he grew up without a father and had been forced to mature early because of his frivolous mother. She once flooed into her son's flat piss ass drunk, looking for her wand, only for Blaise to point out that she had used it to keep her hair up in a bun.

Theo chuckled to himself at the memory. Watching Blaise direct her gently towards the couch, handing her a vial of sobering potion, a glass of water, and a chilled towel, told Theo that this was a regular occurrence.

He sighed. No wonder the Zabini heir had been so good at dealing with Draco during his house arrest. He was used to taking care of someone.

"Hey, Blaise…" Theo moved to grab his wine from the table. "Do you believe in true love?" He took a generous gulp from his glass.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at the random question. "No." He answered matter-of-factly.

Theo nodded his head. He expected that reply. After all, the Zabini heir didn't exactly have the best role model growing up. Was it six, or seven marriages? He couldn't remember the exact number.

"So you think it's impossible to fall in love?"

"Everything is transactional, Theo." Blaise rolled his eyes. "Love is just a convenient excuse people use to hide their intentions."

Theo blinked. That was such a Slytherin thing to say. "So you've never been in love?"

Blaise closed his eyes in exhaustion. Why was Theo having another one of his 'philosophical moments', as he so eloquently put it? "No, I haven't." He answered truthfully, eying the Nott heir lounging on the opposite couch with one arm under his head. "You?"

"Nope." Theo shook his head. "Have you ever seen people who made you feel or think that perhaps… it could be real?"

"No." Blaise replied after a moment of deliberation. He had yet to meet a couple who made him say, _ah that's what love is_. After all, his own mother made him realize those things for himself. He took another sip from his wine, cataloging all the suitors she entertained, and all the husbands she's had throughout the years.

He's heard all the rumors about her. _Gold digger. Veela. Succubus. Alchemist. Siren. Poison master._ It was hard not to after all. His mother was the center of attention wherever they went. Men would literally fall all over themselves at the sight of her. But not once did she talk to him about her relationships. She never even allowed her husbands to interact with him without her in attendance.

All he knew was that they would disappear after a certain amount time, and he never really knew how or why. He never asked his mother either.

He was too scared to find out.

Blaise glanced up at the ceiling as he leaned back against the couch. Anyone who believed that love was real was an idiot. Lust, attraction, attachment, dependence – those were real. But love, in its truest form? Such a thing didn't exist. People would always just mistakenly interchange it for something else.

"What's your mother like?"

The sudden shift in the discussion surprised Blaise. "What's with all the random questions?"

Theo shrugged. "I'm just trying to figure you out."

Blaise blinked at him confused. "Huh?"

"I'm trying to figure out why you're so kind."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're kind, Blaise." Theo turned his head to send him a look that silenced any opportunity for a rebuttal.

"I'm not."

Theo rolled his eyes as he pushed himself up off the couch, swinging his legs back onto the floor. "Oh _please._ You didn't have to bother with me and Draco, but you did. Up until now I still don't know the reason why, but honestly… I can't thank you enough."

Blaise glanced down at the wine in his hand, not knowing the answer to that either. He was already in the middle of all their shit before he even realized. He sighed. He couldn't bring himself to leave them anymore after that.

"I owe Draco a lot." Theo began, refilling his glass once more. "I… My dad used to beat me up… and he would always intervene whenever he could."

Blaise held his breath. This was the first time Theo ever mentioned his past to him voluntarily. The Nott heir was always quick to change the subject, laughing it off whenever he would show signs of having been abused as a kid.

_(Flashback)_

_Blaise followed the panicking elf into the help's quarters, running towards the sounds of screaming. He pushed open the door Tobi pointed towards, noting how the elf quivered in place, holding his small hands firmly against his chest._

_"Where the hell are my knives?!"_

_"Like fuck I'll hand them back! You're fucking bleeding you fucking idiot!"_

_Blaise stood by the door, stunned at the sight of the two pureblooded heirs rolling around on the floor, trying to pin each other down. He could see the Nott heir's wand a few paces from where he stood, no doubt knocked off his hand during the scuffle. The room they were in looked like an exact replica of the Potions laboratory at Hogwarts._

_"You have no right to take my things!"_

_"I'll take whatever the hell I need to if it'll keep you alive!"_

_"Give me back my fucking knives!"_

_"Not until you get your bloody sanity back!"_

_Blaise watched Draco grip Theo's shoulders, straddling him on the floor, forcing their eyes together. The Nott heir stiffened visibly in his hold._

_Blaise had his wand out in the next second._

_"Stupefy!"_

_Theo took in a sharp breath as he nudged Draco's unmoving form off of him, pushing his hands against the floor as he sat up. "Fucking Legilimens!" He cursed out loud._

_"What the hell is going on?" Blaise stomped towards them, eying Theo cradle one side of his head in pain. He turned his gaze towards Draco's mauled left forearm and burnt right hand, nearly gagging at the sight of them._

_"Tobi, get Draco back to his room and heal him!"_

_Blaise watched the tiny elf levitate Draco towards one side of the potions lab, and onto a small makeshift bed by the corner wall. He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion._

_"Tobi, I said-"_

_"This is his room."_

_Blaise glanced back at the Nott heir, watching him wince as he pushed himself off the floor. His foot slipped, making him groan in annoyance when his backside came in contact with the tiled floor._

_"He trashed his bedroom remember? He says this is the only place he can actually sleep in."_

_Blaise blinked. Draco was staying… in the help's building? He watched the tiny elf work his magic to stop the bleeding on his left forearm, moving quickly to soothe the burnt palm of his right hand. "What the hell happened to him?"_

_"He's been trying to figure out how to get rid of the mark." Theo sighed, massaging the side of his head that hit the floor quite nastily. "He tried to steal my wand, but I charmed it to burn anyone who touches it other than myself."_

_Blaise ran a hand through his face in aggravation. It's just been two weeks since his last visit for crying out loud. Just how the hell did things get this bad?_

_"He was… frustrated that he wasn't getting anywhere after three months of slaving away in this… lab of his. I walked in on him yesterday trying to carve the mark off his arm."_

_Blaise winced at the image he drew in his head._

_"So I took all his knives away and I told him he could only use them with my supervision." Theo sighed. "And as you saw, we didn't exactly see eye to eye."_

_When Blaise saw the Nott heir fail to get up once again, he made his way towards him, reaching out to help, when Theo immediately cowered at the sight of his outstretch hand. He was curled in a ball with both arms over his head in the blink of an eye._

_Blaise glanced at the hand he hovered over Theo, feeling his blood freeze at the realization of what it must have looked like to someone who's used to having a hand raised against him. He moved his arm back to his side, watching the Nott heir unfold himself as he chuckled nervously._

_"Must be the adrenaline." He heard him say. "Just had a fight after all."_

_Blaise bent down on one knee, meeting the Nott heir at eye level. He held one hand out with his palm up, nodding at him in reassurance. "I'm just trying to help you stand."_

_(End of flashback)_

Blaise watched Theo run a hand through his hair as he refilled his now empty glass once again.

"I don't know when it started, really. It just kind of… happened." Theo shrugged. The earliest memory he had of his father was when he was five. He accidentally spilled some soup onto his shirt during dinner. A hand whipped across his face before he even managed to reach for a napkin to clean himself up.

He thought of all the times he wanted to stand up to his father. All the times he planned on dropping a vial of poison in his soup before he arrived at the dining table. All the times he stood outside the bath, clutching a knife in his palm, thinking about stabbing him repeatedly while he laid in the tub. All the times he paced outside the master's bedroom in the middle of the night, holding a lit candle in his hand with every intention of burning him alive in his sleep. All the times he wanted to send a killing curse at him the moment he turned his back when he finally got his own wand.

But he could never bring himself to. The probability of failing paralyzed him. He was scared that one wrong move – one sliver of hesitation, one poorly made calculation – would cost him his life.

He was talented at wards, portkeys, and heck, he even fooled around with time turners. But he was an absolute _shit_ at dueling. He was never an offensive fighter. That was Draco's strong suit. He was always just cowering around a corner, waiting for everything to be over.

There was no way he could beat his father head on. Not then, not now, probably not in a million years. If he stood up to him, he would have died. It was no question.

"I always wanted to ask him why, you know? Why did he beat the crap out of me? What did I do to deserve that kind of treatment?" Theo swirled the wine in his hand; the color of the liquid reminding him of his own spilt blood.

"But I was too scared to hear the answer."

In the end, his father died without ever hearing his anger, his pain, and his loathing. Sometimes he felt like he was drowning under all of that hatred – hatred that had no longer had any direction. He had no more channel, no more outlet – nothing left to carry the brunt of it all.

There was no one left to blame.

Blaise eyed Theo's hunched form, noticing the tears that dropped onto his hand clutching at the glass as if his life depended on it. He stood up wordlessly, moving to sit beside the Nott heir, making his presence known without a touch or a sound. He glanced down towards the wine he cradled between his legs, giving Theo some privacy, but not allowing him to feel alone.

"And… cut! That's a wrap!"

Blaise watched Theo swipe at his eyes, laughing at the entire thing, no doubt brushing everything off once again.

"I should really try my hand at acting. Do you think I could make it if I auditioned in the muggle world?"

Blaise sighed. If Draco's weapon was his Occlumency, then Theo's was his wit. He finally understood what all the humor and sarcasm was all about. He placed a hand on the Nott heir's shoulder gingerly, tapping it once, before he let go to stand up off the couch.

"Let me get you some water."

Theo felt his eyes prick at the gesture, half grateful and half frustrated by Blaise's kind nature.

"Thanks dad!"

Blaise closed his eyes in exasperation, pausing in his steps to glance back at the grinning Nott heir. This was yet another thing he had in common with Draco – the propensity to ruin any kind of sentimentality.

"You know, if I had a choice, I would pick you to be my father." Theo threw the rock-and-roll hand gesture towards Blaise, amused by the vexed expression on the other Slytherin's face.

"Keep your fucking daddy issues to yourself, Theo."

* * *

Hermione glared at Malfoy, annoyed with the silent treatment he was giving her. He barely even acknowledged her when she muttered a greeting at him! She didn't understand why the hell he was so skittish around her. She hasn't done anything to warrant this kind of reaction from him.

If anyone should be acting pissed, it should be her. After all, he did manhandle her back at her apartment last week after they left the Quidditch game. She clicked her tongue. If he was going to be this petulant all night long, then it was best that they didn't interact at all.

Date five out of sixteen was a simple trip to the movies, only this particular film theater would be the first one established in the wizarding world. The Muggles Relations Office really outdid themselves with this one.

She read in the news that it was usually packed, so picking the latest time slot on a Sunday evening was a good move on their part. Not only was making reservations much easier, there were lesser patrons as well. She sighed. At least with this setting, the chances of having a repeat of what happened back at the stadium was low.

She leaned against the upholstered recliner she was in, moving the knob on the arm rest to adjust the angle to fit her body perfectly. Another button made the bottom of the chair flip, raising her legs up for better comfort. She sighed in satisfaction.

She was initially exasperated that he once again bought out the entire VIP section of the cinema, but the silence and privacy made her thankful that he did.

She glanced at him again through the corner of her eyes, watching him sit stiffly on his chair. If he wasn't going to talk to her, then so be it. They were watching a movie anyway so there was no point in trying to be civil.

The dimming of the lights told her that the motion picture was about to begin. She intertwined her fingers on her lap, excited to watch The Perfect Storm. It was her first time back in a cinema in years. She definitely didn't expect she would be sharing the experience with him, of all people, but that was a minor detail she could easily overlook.

Her eyes stayed glued on the screen as the story progressed, forgetting where she was and who she was with for a moment, when the sound of shuffling made her tilt her head towards Malfoy.

She narrowed her eyes at the heavy way he was breathing. He had his eyes closed but the light from the film reflected the sweat on his forehead. She had half a mind to ask him what was wrong when she saw him take out a flask from his suit pocket, emptying its contents in just a few quick sips.

"Malfoy!" She called out from under her breath. "Are you serious?" The noise from the movie drowned out her voice.

The ship was struggling against a hurricane now, drowning the theater in punishing sounds of rain and thunder, with occasional blinding flashes of lightning. She narrowed her eyes when he saw him flinch after a particularly loud clap of thunder.

Was he frightened by the storm?

"Malfoy." She whispered, reaching out a hand towards him. She stopped just before they touched, second guessing herself at the last second. "Hey!" She called out much louder this time, but he still had his eyes closed, taking in deep breaths to calm himself down.

Draco recoiled when he felt a hand tap his without warning. "What the bloody hell is your problem, Granger?" He hissed through gritted teeth.

" _My_ problem?" She argued back, careful not to make so much noise. "You're the one who's-"

"For fuck's sake, just stop nitpicking every little thing about me!"

Hermione opened her mouth to retort, when she heard a loud shush sent towards their direction. They were being too loud.

She glared at him in annoyance. Where the hell did that statement even come from? She barely said a word to him but he was making it seem as if she's been nagging him all evening.

"Alcohol isn't allowed here, Malfoy. Or did you not read the rules?"

"Still the playing the part of the perfect student?" He scoffed at her, annoyed for being called out. "Hate to break it to you, Granger, but we're not in school anymore. So you can drop the teacher's pet act."

"It's called being a _responsible_ adult, Malfoy. But I guess I really shouldn't expect that from you."

They glared at each other, neither one willing to back down, when a flash of lightning followed by a loud rumble of thunder made Draco jump.

Hermione eyed him strangely as she scanned his shaken form. "Are you alright?"

Draco closed his eyes, groaning as he leaned back against the chair. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling an overwhelming annoyance threatening to erupt in his chest.

"Are you scared of thunderstorms?"

He let out a long, exasperated breath, cradling his face in the palm of his hand. She just wouldn't leave him alone, would she? She just couldn't get a clue no matter what he did or said.

"Granger, just… stop talking. For once, just shut up."

She narrowed her eyes at his dismissal, observing his weary demeanor in silence, realizing he was too prideful to admit any sort of weakness.

She huffed in annoyance, pushing herself off the comfort of the recliner. "Let's watch a different movie."

Draco glared at her through the space between his fingers. He didn't need her fucking concern. The last thing he wanted from her was her pity.

"Sit down, Granger." He clenched his jaw, bringing his hand back down onto the arm rest. "We're staying. Right. _Here_."

Hermione glanced at him from under her nose, crossing her arms against her chest in defiance. "Fine. If you want to sit through something that's clearly traumatizing for you, then be my guest."

She turned around to walk away, not waiting for a reply. She didn't want to be next to him while he whimpered and thrashed against whatever it was he was trying so hard to fight against.

She pushed through the heavy double doors, stomping her way out of the cinema, stepping out onto the secluded streets of Diagon Alley. She let out a quick frustrated sigh, watching her breath cloud over her face as she clutched the shoulder bag slung across her torso. A hand was on her elbow before she could walk away.

"What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?"

Hermione glared back at the incensed expression on Malfoy's face, surprised that he had enough common sense not to scream bloody murder at her. It was nearly midnight, but they were still out in public after all.

"What's wrong with _me_?" She pulled her arm out of his grasp forcefully. "I'm not the alcoholic who can't stand two seconds without a fix." She bit back at him.

Draco was in her space, fisting his hands to his sides, holding onto what little self-control he had left. "Stop. Fucking. Judging me, Granger. Or have you forgotten about your crazy wall, and your inclination towards being mindless?" He felt her push against his chest roughly, glaring back at him without an ounce of fear.

He chuckled darkly, relishing how it seemed to infuriate her even further. "What's the matter, Granger? Hate it when people call you out?" He mocked as he folded his arms on his chest, scanning her from head to toe, noting the tightness in her posture and the fury in her gaze.

"It's probably why Weasley left, huh? Couldn't handle the madness any longer."

Draco felt a hand on his forearm, followed quickly by the familiar pull of apparition. He barely had time to recollect himself when a pair of hands started pushing against him once again. He stumbled a few steps backwards, disoriented by the sudden movement.

"You have no _fucking_ right to talk about my personal life!"

It only took Draco one second to realize that they were standing in the living room of her apartment.

"And you do?! You think you have the right to call me out every single time your bloody righteousness meter gets offended?!"

"I _do_ when you make it so damn _obvious_!" She stomped a foot against the floor; her voice raising up several notches in frustration. "Malfoy, you carry firewhiskey with you wherever you go! There's not a single instance I haven't smelled it on you!" She flipped a hand towards him in aggravation. "And you occlude over every little thing-"

"Every little thing?!" He reiterated in disbelief. He couldn't even begin to explain just how wrong that statement was. "Why don't you stop trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with me, and focus on your own damn life?! How about that, Granger, huh?" He paused to throw her a sardonic look. "New. Rule. Mind your own _fucking_ business!"

"If you don't want me to comment on your habits, then stop being so transparent about them!" She clapped back at him, jutting an incensed finger towards him to emphasize her point. "It's almost as if you _want_ me to call you out!"

"Oh, so it's my fault?!" He eyed her incredulously, appalled that she had the nerve to pin the blame on him. "Learn to let go of your fucking hero complex, Granger, and keep your bloody nose out of other people's affairs!"

"Well it's hard to when you keep shoving all your issues onto my face!"

"Stop trying to _fix_ me, Granger!" He kicked the edge of her sofa in anger, nudging the upholstered furniture a few feet away. He turned his back to her when he saw her flinch at his outburst.

"It's _my_ life!" He paused to glare back at the stunned expression on her face. "How I choose to live it is none of your bloody business! I'm not some damn house elf you can set free! And stop fucking looking at me like-" _Like you see something worth salvaging_ , he stopped himself from saying; surprised he even thought of the words in the first place.

"Just- Stop prying into my life!"

He was so sick of being on the receiving end of that _look_ of hers. He was so tired of listening to her ask about his well-being as if she… _cared._ He was so done with her throwing him off balance _every single time_ she would break through his Occlumency. He didn't want to spend another minute trying to figure out what the hell was going through her mind as if any of it made sense.

Hermione fisted her hands to her side, letting out a breath to calm herself down. "Malfoy, you _need_ help."

Draco threw his arms up in the air, not even bothering to hide his aggravation. "Didn't even listen to a _fucking_ word I said." He mumbled to himself.

"I'm not trying to patronize you, Malfoy." She raised both her palms up for added reassurance. "Alcohol is among the most commonly misused addictive substances around the world. Breaking an addiction becomes more difficult the longer and more frequently a person is exposed to it.”

Hermione’s demeanor naturally slipped into a professional one; her tone every bit the Healer that she was. “People who experience traumatic events are more prone to it as well. It's understandable after everything that's happened to you during the war. How long have you been an alcoholic? I can refer you to someone-" She paused when she saw him start to chuckle to himself.

She narrowed her eyes, scanning his shaking form in confusion. Why was he laughing? There was absolutely nothing funny about what they were discussing.

Her breath hitched when he finally turned to face her. His silver eyes were sporting a dangerous glint that made her press a palm against her wand through the fabric of her coat.

"You want to talk about the war?"

Draco grinned at her discomfort; his eyes on her were feral and unhinged. "Do you know how flesh smells like when it's on fire?"

He could never forget the charred scent of human meat, burnt all the way down to the bone. After all, the Death Eaters were fond of using lightning spells to torture the elves and the muggles they brought back to the manor. They loved to burn through them bit by bit until they could no longer move, no longer scream.

"Or how easily it breaks?"

The image of Greyback hunting during the full moon flashed in his eyes. He would always give his prey a head start, varying between five to fifteen minutes depending on his disposition for the day. But when it rained, he gave them a thirty-minute leeway. The sadistic werewolf apparently adored hurricanes, claiming that they always 'set the mood' right.

Hermione shuddered at the look on his face, moving to grasp the tip of her wand tucked inside her coat pocket.

"Do you know how hard it is to try and keep entrails from spilling out?" He laughed out loud as if he was recalling a particularly fond memory. He clenched his fists, trying to rid his palms of the feel of warm wet intestines.

_(Flashback)_

_"Winry, some water."_

_Draco scanned through the remaining pages of Cassiopeia Black's notes, annoyed that there was nothing in it that he didn't already know. He scoffed._

_He knew that Legilimency and Occlumency were passed down in the house of Black through parental teachings alone, but to go as far as censor their own written works… it made him wonder just how much of it they were trying to keep secret._ _He narrowed his eyes. Why?_

_"Winry." He called out more firmly this time. "Water."_

_He heard a popping sound behind him, rolling his eyes as he turned around. "Took you long en-" He dropped the book in his hand, staring at the tiny elf in mortification._

_The middle of her body had been ripped through. What remained of her innards were falling out, held only by the tiny hands trying desperately to keep them lodged inside her torso._

_When he finally snapped out of his shock, Draco rushed to the elf's side. He pressed a hand against her stacked ones, pulling at his wand, whispering every healing spell he could think of._

_"E-Episkey! Brackium Emendo! Vulnera Sanentur!"_

_Draco released his hand against her torso, catching her just in time as she fell backwards, eyes fluttering closed._

_"Winry!" He called out, panicking when he felt her gradually grow cold in his arms. "Vulnera Sanentur! Vulnera Sanentur!" He kept chanting, but the wound wouldn't heal. The enormous hole on the elf's trunk remained unchanged._

_Draco chanted a few rounds of reviving spells, desperate to do something… anything._

_"That reviving spell is merely a counter charm against stunning ones. You should have learned that during your first year at Hogwarts."_

_Draco turned around to see Snape standing a few paces from him in the library. He didn't hear him come in. How long had he been standing there?_

_Draco pushed himself off the floor, letting the elf's dead body fall against the carpet with a thud. He eyed his bloody hands with disgust, sneering as he vanished the rest of the mess off his tailored suit._

_"Is Greyback hunting again?" He scoffed. "He better replace this with a new one." He jutted his chin towards the magical creature's carcass rudely. "The manor is running out of help." He eyed the pointed look Snape was sending him, careful not to sustain eye contact for too long._

_"You need to work on your lying, Draco. Your Occlumency may be above average, but you're going to have to be a better actor if you want to survive in your own house."_

_Draco swallowed, watching the older man step out of the room from the periphery of his vision._

_(End of flashback)_

"Or maybe you'd like to hear about how the Death Eaters would snatch up muggles and tie them up, hanging them against the pergolas in the outdoor garden?"

On sunny days, they would let their creativity run wild, trying out one hex after another. On rainy days they would take turns electrocuting them until the bodies were so scorched it was impossible to distinguish a man from a woman.

He paused, forgetting entirely how to breathe, when the image of Bellatrix sitting by his bed, leaning over him, flashed in his eyes. She always loved to drop by during thunderstorms.

"Malfoy?" Hermione walked towards him slowly when she saw him turn white as a sheet. She waved a hand in front of him, standing about an arm's length away now. "Malfoy? Hey!" She wrapped a hand around the crook of his elbow, shaking him slightly, but he just stood there unmoving.

"Draco."

He snapped out of it, turning towards her, only now realizing their closeness. She was looking at him with wide eyes, concern written all over her face.

"Are you alright?"

"Don't touch me!" He pulled himself out of her grasp, taking several steps away for added measure. He ran both hands through his hair, fisting them tightly at the nape of his neck as he turned away from her.

Why wouldn't she just leave him alone?

Hermione eyed him apprehensively, not knowing what to do. "Malfoy, seriously. You need to get help."

He was chuckling to himself again, shaking his head at her obstinacy. "You just don't know when to quit, do you?" He sent her a challenging gaze.

In the blink of an eye, he was out of the living room, running through the hallway of her flat.

Hermione felt her blood grow cold at the sight of where he was headed. She was on his tail in the next second, rounding a corner just in time to see him slam the door to her bedroom.

She ran full speed ahead towards it, slamming against the door when she failed to catch herself in time. She turned the knob, annoyed that he sealed it from the inside. She hammered a frustrated fist against the wood, before screaming an incensed Alohamora against the lock.

Hermione flung the door open, feeling something in her chest crumble at the sight of him standing by her bedside table with an empty vial in his hand. The drawer was open, revealing several small ampoules filled with purple liquid.

A chuckle escaped his throat, increasing in intensity with every second that passed. He shook his head at the sight of the used vials scattered on top of the compact desk, waving a hand towards the generous stash of tiny corked bottles inside the open compartment.

Draco smacked a palm against his face, laughing hysterically at the turn of events. He ran into her room with every intention of slapping her wall of her insanity to her face, only to find out that she was nursing an addiction to dreamless sleep potion.

He took a moment to collect his bearings, wiping the tears that formed in the corner of his eyes. He shook his head at her in disbelief.

"You fucking _hypocrite_."

Hermione struggled to breathe at the accusation, watching him laugh uninhibitedly at her expense. She felt a tear drop onto the hand clutching her wand.

When did she start crying?

"You're such a bloody fucking hypocrite!" She heard him scream out loud towards no one in particular as he doubled over in mirth. The haughty sound of his laugh reverberated in the room.

Ah.

He was right.

She was a hypocrite.

She was scolding him about his addiction, when she had one just as worse. She was judging him for running away from his past, when she was basically doing the same thing – cutting herself off from the world every now and then to numb the pain. She felt superior to him over the fact that she fought on the right side of the war, rallying against a murderer spouting claims of genocide, when she-

_Avada Kedavra!_

She was in front of him in an instant.

Draco flinched at the slap that hit his face, cutting his laughter off completely. Feeling something snap within him, he grabbed her shoulders, spinning them around to slam her against the bed.

"Don't you _ever_ fucking hit-"

He froze at the sight of her silent crying. His position over her, with his hands pressing against her shoulders, reminded him of the drawing room.

_I don't know. I'm telling the truth!_

_Why are you doing this?_

_It hurts! Make it stop!_

_Someone help!_

_No more, please…_

_Please!_

He pulled himself back immediately, hardly wincing even as he crashed onto the floor of her bedroom. He watched her roll to one side slowly, curling into a ball, crying her heart out as quietly as she could.

What had he done?

Feeling the telltale signs of a panic attack coming, he tried to apparate away, only to realize that she had barred him from the wards yet again.

Draco scrambled out of the room, slamming onto the walls of the hallway, knocking over the hanging photographs. He tripped over his own two feet, clutching onto a mirror by the wall, dragging it down with him to the floor.

He heard it crash into a million pieces, feeling sharp bits grazing his face and the palms of his hands, but the pain barely registered. He was back on his feet in no time, running towards the other end of the living room.

He grabbed a handful of floo powder, toppling the bag to the floor in a messy heap. He threw it into the fireplace, nearly forgetting to call out his destination before rushing through the mounting green flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... All that happened lol! 
> 
> Sometimes... I feel like I'm going crazy every time I try to review the profiles and backstories I created for my characters, but it's just so fun trying to weave and unweave their lives together!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left such wonderful comments in response to my previous chapter and the notes I attached to it ^^ I really really appreciate them all!
> 
> I'd love to hear your thoughts on this update! Have a great week ahead :)


	17. Murderer

Built as an entrance arch for the 1889 World's Fair

Construction took two years, two months and five days, from 1887 to 1889

Tallest structure in the world until 1930 measuring 324 meters or 1063 feet tall

Ginny scanned the rest of the brochure offhandedly as she stepped out of the lift. She swallowed a few times, sticking a finger in one ear to get rid of the stuffy feeling. She felt a pop, sighing in relief when her hearing returned.

When she read that the tower only had three levels, she hadn't expected it to be so high. She was initially apprehensive about climbing all the way to the top since it looked somewhat flimsy, but now that she was inside the structure, standing at the highest observation deck, she could only stare out in awe.

So this was the Eiffel tower.

She placed a hand on the rails, pulling her coat's hood over her head to block the wind. She pocketed the travel pamphlet, rubbing her palms together to warm them up.

So this was Paris.

She took a moment to stare out into the horizon, disappointed that she missed the sunset. Based on the photos, she expected it to be a simple monument meant to be admired from afar. She didn't think it would be an actual building that allowed guests in, so she timed her arrival during the golden hour.

She sighed, a tad bit regretful at the missed opportunity to witness the expanse of the city bathed under the glow of the setting sun.

She turned her head to one side, seeing a family of three huddled around a chunky looking telescope. She watched them drop some coins into the device, peaking through the lenses, pointing towards the metropolis. She hummed, eying a few more of the telescopes scattered at the edge of the viewing deck.

Ginny moved towards one of them, eying it curiously. She tapped the edge of the slot hole, pulling out what was left of the muggle currency in her jeans' pocket.

She clicked her tongue. She didn't have any change. She eyed the device again, hoping there would be an option for paper currency.

"Here."

She blinked at the hand right in front of her, holding out some coins.

"I didn't have any the first time I came up here, so I know how it feels."

She heard the man chuckle as she took some out of his hand, tugging down her hood to offer her thanks. "It's very kind of you to-" She felt time stop when her gaze landed on familiar bespectacled green eyes.

How could she have failed to notice that voice?

"Gin." Came his breathless tone.

"Harry." Her response sounded just as winded.

She watched him blink several times, eyes scanning their surroundings before landing back onto her. "What… What are you doing here?" She heard him ask quietly.

Regaining a bit of her composure, Ginny turned away from him, dropping the coins into the slot before lining herself up against the dual scopes. She watched as the lenses opened up, allowing her to see the scattered establishments of the city up close.

"Am I not allowed to be here?"

"N-No, of course not. Uh, no! I mean… sure you are. Allowed, I mean."

Ginny ignored his fumbling reply, narrowing her eyes when the telescope refused to budge. She tried again, pushing against it more forcefully, leaning the rest of her weight on it. She clicked her tongue. Why wouldn't it move?

"You need to press this button here."

She watched Harry instruct her how to use the device. The familiarity with which he moved told her he's done this more than a few times. "Thanks." She mumbled, not bothering to spare him a glance. She was back to admiring the beauty of Paris at night.

"So… Uh, how've you been?"

Ginny let out a sigh, turning to finally look at the fidgeting man standing right beside her. "Good, you?"

Harry ran a hand through his hair, uncomfortable with the blank gaze she was sending his way. "Uh… Alright, I guess." He heard her hum, shifting her attention back onto the telescope.

He took this moment to just look at her. She had her hair in a high ponytail; her bare face showing off a splash of freckles that seemed to have grown in number since he last saw her. She was wearing denim jeans, a dark blue jumper, brown boots, and a large maroon overcoat with a hoodie lined with faux fur.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, shifting his weight from one foot to another as the silence dragged on. "Um… The view is wonderful during sunrise too, but I have to say that it's absolutely breathtaking at sunset." He watched as she moved away from the telescope, hands dropping back down to her sides as she eyed the wide expanse of the horizon.

Harry swallowed down the flurry of questions at the tip of his tongue. What was she doing here? At the top of the Eiffel tower. Why was she here? In Paris, of all places.

Ginny finally mustered up the courage to really look at him. He was staring back at her with wide eyes; the dark circles under them nearly nonexistent. She could smell a hint of peppermint and sandalwood from him. It seems he was still using the brand of aftershave she got for him as a gift. His hair was neatly trimmed, and he seemed to have gained some weight as well.

She blinked. He looked so much healthier than the last time she saw him.

"You look good."

Harry scanned the appraising look she was giving him, unsure of what it meant. "I… Thanks. You look great as well." He scratched the back of his head. She always looked great.

"You seem happier, too."

Harry blinked, completely caught off guard by her words. "I…" He had no idea what to reply to that. Was he? Was he actually happier than he was a couple of months ago?

He watched her nod her head at him despite his nonexistent reply. A wistful smile was on her face.

"I'm glad."

He looked away from the sincerity of her gaze, a familiar feeling of guilt wracking his chest. "Gin, I-"

"If you apologize one more time, I'll punch you in the face."

Harry brought his palms up in surrender, shaking his head at her frantically. "I wasn't going to-" The knowing look she sent him silenced his excuses. "Okay." He sighed, bringing his hands back down to his sides. "I won't."

"Good." Ginny sent him one more warning glare for added measure.

Harry watched her gaze out into the city once again. He wanted to keep talking to her, but he knew he didn't have the right to.

He wanted to congratulate her on her latest win. He wanted to ask her how her training was, and if she was still at odds with the seeker of her team. He wanted to ask how her family was doing, and how Fleur was managing now that her pregnancy was nearing its ninth month.

He wanted to ask her if she was still trying her hands at baking, and if she finally managed to not burn a batch of cookies. He fought a smile, recalling how exasperated Molly was that none of her children was useful in the kitchen. He wanted to ask if she finally got herself a cat. She was thinking of adopting one at the start of the year after all.

He wanted to ask if she still took her tea with a teaspoon of honey and a dash of milk, and if she would let him, he would get one for her right now. She was starting to shiver under the chill of the night air.

"I'm sorry I slapped you."

Harry blinked, only now realizing that she'd been staring at him. "Huh?"

"When you broke up with me." Ginny dropped her gaze down, twisting the tip of her boot against the floor sheepishly. "I slapped you pretty hard."

Harry scratched his left cheek, still recalling how much it stung after she swung her palm against it. He grinned at the memory. Never let a professional Quidditch player land a hit on you. If he hadn't seen it coming, he would have assumed it had been a bludger.

"I deserved it." He shrugged, eying her without an ounce of blame. "I'm surprised you let me off with just that actually."

"Let me give you one on the other cheek, then. That way it'd be a match."

Harry raised his hands up in surrender, chuckling nervously at the casual threat. "On second thought, that one slap was _plenty_. Thank you."

He watched her smile at him slightly, feeling his lips part at the softness of her gaze. He never thought he'd ever see her look at him that way again. He fought the urge to wrap his arms around her, knowing he'd be beaten to a pulp if he did.

The feel of a heavy fist colliding with his shoulder sent him reeling. The pain left him winded, not even giving him an opportunity to let out a yell of pain.

"What the hell, Gin?!" He looked at her with wide incredulous eyes.

She grinned at him triumphantly, secretly glad that the look of guilt was finally wiped off of his face. "I just decided that one slap wasn't enough."

Harry mumbled to himself as he rubbed a hand over his sore shoulder. It was going to be black and blue come morning.

"Thanks."

Harry blinked, not sure if he heard her right. "I'm sorry, what?" He watched her shrug at him; both hands back in the pockets of her coat.

"For breaking up with me."

Ginny eyed the speechless expression on his face, no doubt completely flabbergasted by her gratitude. She chuckled to herself.

A couple of months ago, she never would have imagined she would be thankful towards him for leaving her. She had been so angry at him back then that she never realized how hard it must have been for him. But now that some bit of time has passed, she understood that it was the right thing to do. If they continued being together while he shouldered all of his issues, they never would have been happy.

 _She_ wouldn't have been happy.

"Thank you for being honest with me." She added.

The affection she would often feel whenever he was within her sight was back. But it was different somehow. He felt more like… an acquaintance she was fond of, or an old friend she hasn't seen in years. Gone was the tightness in her chest, and the heavy feeling in her heart.

She would always love him. He was her first, after all. But now, the future she envisioned was one _without_ him. And somehow, she was fine with that. She smiled.

She was going to be okay.

"Gin, I… I'm really-"

"I _will_ punch you in the face."

Harry swallowed down the apology, swiping the back of his hands over his eyes. "Thank you, Gin." He said, instead.

She nodded. "That's much better." She watched him sniff as he wiped off the rest of his tears. She pursed her lips, unsure of why she felt an overwhelming urge to laugh. She sucked her cheeks in, feeling her shoulders start to shake.

Harry looked at her in disbelief. "Why are you _laughing_?"

Ginny giggled even louder at the sight of his face and neck flushing bright red. He was acting like _he_ was the one who got dumped, not the other way around. She shook her head. For someone who stood up against the darkest wizard in history, he was such a softie.

Harry stared at the tissue shoved towards his face. It was from one of the cafés on the first level of the tower. "Wipe your snot." He heard her say, snorting at him afterwards. He took the flimsy brown paper in his hand, nodding his thanks.

" _Ah_ …" Ginny sighed exasperatedly as she eyed his tear-streaked face. "Here I thought I could finally cut you out of my life."

Harry froze from wiping his nose, staring at her as she walked towards the edge of the viewing deck, leaning onto the metal railing. He watched her turn around; a soft breeze threading through her red tresses as she smiled at him.

"Friends?" He heard her ask as she offered an outstretched hand towards him.

Harry felt his eyes prick, feeling an overwhelming amount of affection burst in his chest. He moved towards her, stopping when his hand finally met hers. "Friends."

"Stop _crying."_ Ginny rolled her eyes, giving him a firm handshake before tucking her hands back into her coat's pockets. "You can stop being a stranger, too, and head back to the Burrow for Sunday brunch." She sniffed, feeling the tip of her nose itch from the cold.

Harry could only nod his head, feeling another weight lift off his chest. How could he be so lucky? How on earth had he been blessed with people who just… forgave him that easily?

"Now all we need is Hermione and we'd have the whole gang back!" Ginny shrugged, chuckling to herself. She knew it was wishful thinking, but she hoped that one day they would all be able to sit together and just laugh at all the crap they've been through.

"Do you… talk to her often?"

Ginny raised a brow at the strange apprehension she could feel off of him. "Yes. Well, as often as she'd let me. She's practically married to her job. Or maybe even _Malfoy_ for all we know!" She rolled her eyes, recalling the bushy-haired witch's tight-lipped answers whenever she would ask about the albino ferret. She huffed.

"Has she talked to you? About Malfoy?"

She eyed the strange look in his eyes, confused by his sudden seriousness. "No. She never tells me anything. Why?"

Harry took in a deep breath, releasing it slowly through his nose. "There's something you need to know."

* * *

Draco couldn't believe it. When Levinson's owl came in just a few minutes ago, he never expected the news it was carrying to be… this. He reread the letter in his hands once again.

Just like that? They were handing back the manor to his family… just like that?

He chucked the letter onto his coffee table, downing the firewhiskey in his glass before running a hand through his face. His eyes landed on the unblemished skin of his palm, recalling how it had been full of shard glass just over a week ago. He fisted it tightly.

He'd been on edge since that night, always keeping an eye out for any owls and letters that might have come from her, telling him she was calling the deal off. He ran a hand through his hair, fisting it at the nape of his neck. He fucked up.

He fucked up big time.

He had no idea how to face her now. What could he possibly tell her? He could argue that she started it, and that he only responded in retribution, but he knew that would be a lie. She was right after all. All his issues were things she saw because they were out in the open, but hers had been her secret and he had forced them out of her by barging into her room.

He swallowed, feeling the dryness in his throat. He looked around, realizing he only had alcohol within reach. He grumbled, stopping himself before he could call on Tobi. The tiny elf would no doubt ask him again if he wanted some food, and go on to mention how it's been a while since he last requested for some.

He ran a hand through his face again. Why wouldn't everyone just leave him alone?

He pushed himself off the sofa and headed out of his room towards the kitchen. He passed by the living room, surprised that the fire was still going. He hummed to himself. Perhaps Tobi forgot to put it out.

He yawned as he pushed the door of the kitchen open, stopping abruptly when he caught a sight of his mother staring at him unassumingly by the dining set, clutching a mug of hot tea.

"Hungry?" She asked apprehensively.

He let out a huff of annoyance as he moved to get a glass of water, not sparing her a glance. "I got a letter from Levinson just now. The Ministry is giving us back the manor in ten days."

"Oh. That's… That's good. Great." Narcissa glanced at the back of her only son, feeling her chest crumble at the sight of his thin frame. Was he even eating?

"Would you… Would you like me to call Tobi to make you something?"

"Not hungry."

She watched him refill his glass once again, gulping it down quickly as if he couldn't wait to get away from her. "You should eat, Draco." She called out to him quietly.

"I said I'm not hungry, didn't I?"

Draco emptied the rest of the water in his glass, leaving the kitchen before she could say another word. He was half way through the living room when he heard a door slam behind him, followed by rushed steps and shuffling fabric.

"I'm sorry!"

He froze in his tracks as he held his breath, not able to bring himself to turn around. He swallowed, feeling his eyes prick at the desperation in his mother's voice. He could hear her attempting to muffle her cries; the quiet space of the living room and the soft crackling of the flames did nothing to drown out her whimpers.

"I'm _sorry_ , Draco."

Draco clenched his free hand, pursing his trembling lips, trying his best to keep the tears at bay. He turned around to see her standing a few paces from him, both hands fisting against her nightdress as tears flowed down her cheeks.

He took note of her disheveled appearance – hair in disarray, dark circles under her eyes, complexion ashen and tired. He couldn't remember a time when she looked as unkempt as she did right now. Even during the war, she always looked impeccable – robes perfectly pressed, skin glowing, not a single hair out of place.

"Draco, I…" Narcissa looked at her son trying her best to find the words that wouldn't make him walk away. "I'm… I'm _sorry_." In the end, all she could think of was apologizing.

Draco felt his resolve weaken at the sight of the broken look on his mother's face. He crossed the space between them in the next second, enveloping her in his arms.

The gesture finally made Narcissa cry out loud as she held onto her son, hoping he wouldn't let go. "I'm _so_ sorry, Draco…"

Draco nuzzled his cheek against her temple, allowing one hand to smooth the back of her hair. "I know, mother." He whispered in her ear. He could feel her body wrack his own with her sobs as she sputtered out one apology after another. He hugged her tighter when he felt her knees give out, maneuvering them slowly towards the couch.

He sat her down, running a soothing hand through her hair once again; the other still holding onto her tightly. "It's… okay. It's okay, mother." He could feel her slowly calm down; her body hitching less and less as the minutes passed by. He felt her push against his chest gingerly, turning her head away when he gave her space. He watched her wipe the back of her hands against her cheeks, trying her best to stop sniffling.

Draco fisted his hands against his thigh, feeling an overwhelming desire to apologize.

"Mother, I'm… I'm sorry for… for using Legilimency on you." He swallowed, eyes darting down to his lap. "I won't- I promise I won't do it again." He brought his gaze back to her silent form. "You have my _word_." He watched her stare back at him, eyes still shinning with unshed tears.

"But… I won't apologize for the things I said." He clenched his jaw, eying her resolutely. "I'm not taking them back." He watched her nod at him, swiping the knuckles of her fingers under her eyes.

"You shouldn't." She smiled at him weakly. "It was the truth."

Draco tore his eyes away from his mother's resigned ones. He never thought that getting things out in the open would be this… _excruciating_. He expected to feel lighter, vindicated; but instead, it was just more guilt… more regret.

He knew he spoke the truth. He didn't doubt that for a second. But he couldn't help but think that if he had chosen to stay quiet… if only he hadn't run his mouth… if he just continued to bury everything under his Occlumency… then there would have been no further pain – no more added suffering.

"You've gotten… so much better."

Draco snapped his eyes back to his mother, confused by strange look she was sending him.

"Bella's Legilimency feels like a claw digging into your brain, dragging it out through your eyes." She shuddered at the feel of it, still fresh in her mind even after all these years. It was very much like their mothers. "But yours… yours was like a calm breeze." She smiled at him with pride. "I hardly felt it."

Narcissa stopped herself from reaching out to him, afraid her touch would make him pull away. "You were making sure it wouldn't hurt, weren't you?" She felt her eyes tear up as she stared at her only son.

What a wonderful boy he ended up becoming. Even in the midst of all his anger, his magic never felt suffocating – never felt punishing. It was gentle and… _kind_. It was nothing at all like her mother's or Bella's.

_(Flashback)_

_"Told you she'd be here!"_

_"She's always here after her lessons, Anne."_

_Narcissa lifted her head off her arms to glance at her sisters, staying huddled against the gigantic water fountain in the middle of their garden. She watched both of them flop beside her with Andromeda patting a hand on top of her head._

_"I can't do it." She muttered weakly, hiding her face behind her crossed arms once again._

_"It's always hard the first few months, Cissy. You'll get the hang of it after sometime." Andromeda shrugged, nudging her shoulder gingerly against her younger sister._

_"Mother keeps saying I have no talent." Narcissa hugged her knees even tighter against her body. "It's been six months, but I haven't improved at all."_

_"You know how she is." Andromeda sighed in exasperation. "She told me the exact same thing when I first started. So don't worry about it."_

_Bella pressed a hand on top of Narcissa's head, ruffling her hair fondly. "You're only eight, Cissy. I got much better at it when I turned ten."_

_"Oh come off it, Bella! Mom says you're an absolute natural." Andromeda rolled her eyes._

_Bellatrix grinned at both her sisters, shifting her gaze around to make sure they were alone before leaning in towards them. "Actually, I finally did it." She paused, placing both hands on her hips, puffing her chest out proudly. "I finally learned Legilimency."_

_Andromeda and Narcissa shrieked simultaneously, pushing at Bellatrix excitedly until she fell on the ground._

_"How?!"_

_"What did you do?!"_

_"What did mother say?!"_

_"What did you see?!"_

_Bella pushed herself up, swatting their hands off her as she composed herself. "I'm not allowed to say." She stuck her nose up in the air as she folded her arms across her chest._

_Andromeda's mouth fell open, slapping a hand across her older sister's shoulder in jealously. "No fair!"_

_"Wow, Bella. Congratulations…" Narcissa eyed her, torn between rejoicing and wallowing in self-pity._

_"Cissy, you're four years younger than I am. Stop being so hard on yourself." Bellatrix rolled her eyes, tilting her head towards Andromeda to send her a mocking look. "You, on the other hand, are falling behind."_

_"Oh shut it!" Anne bit back. "I still have a year to get to where you are now."_

_Bella shrugged. "You're a year behind where I was when I was your age so… it's not looking very good for you." She stuck her tongue out._

_Narcissa watched them bicker back and forth; the fight escalating gradually to another one of their squabbles. She saw them start to push against each other until they were on the grass, rolling all over the place trying to pin each other down._

_Narcissa moved back against the cold marble of the fountain to hug her knees against her chest once again. "Does the pain go away when I get older?"_

_Bella and Anne paused in the middle of their fight, getting in a few more nudges until they finally moved apart._

_"The better your Occlumency gets, the less it hurts." Anne reassured her, with Bella nodding in agreement._

_"Do you think I'll get better?"_

_"Of course." Bellatrix snorted, folding her arms across her chest._

_Andromeda placed a hand on her head, patting her affectionately. "You're our little sister."_

_(End of flashback)_

Narcissa blinked at the last memory she had of Bellatrix still being… herself. She had always been a prodigy and had been favored by their mother, but the moment she was revealed to be a Legilimens, everything changed. Her room had been moved, her lessons had been more intensive, and Narcissa rarely saw her outside of meals. Her mother had given up trying to train her and Andromeda, focusing all her efforts solely on her first born.

As they got older, Andromeda and her mother kept clashing, finally cutting off all ties with each other when she eloped with a muggle. Their father passed away sometime after that, but it wasn't like his absence made any difference. He was rarely home.

Eventually Bella was married off to the Lestrange family, while she had been offered to the Malfoys. She never saw much of her after that, only reconnecting with her once again after she gave birth to Draco.

Narcissa could still remember the eerie way her oldest sister would look at him in his nursery, holding him close as if he was her own. She never left Draco's side during the first three years of his life for fear that she would wake up one day and find him missing.

"Mother, I'm…"

Narcissa turned her gaze back onto her son, surprised to see him in tears.

Draco fisted his hands in his lap, angry at himself for using the one thing he feared the most against his own mother – the one thing _they_ feared the most. He had been so caught up with his own past that he never once thought to consider what she must have gone through.

Bellatrix had told him all three of them learned their Occlumency from their mother at an age much younger than he did. He couldn't even begin to fathom how frightening it must have been for his mother to grow up having to deal with not only his aunt, but his grandmother as well.

"I'm sorry…" He bowed his head in shame, falling to his knees on the floor, grasping onto her nightdress. "Please forgive-" He felt a pair of hands rest on each side of his head, tilting his gaze up to meet warm blue eyes staring at him adoringly.

"Draco, you did nothing wrong."

"No, I-" He heard her shush him gently; soft fingers threading through his hair affectionately before a pair of lips descended on the top of his forehead.

"It's all my fault." Narcissa moved back to glance into her son's shinning eyes, running the pads of her thumbs under them, hoping the gesture could wipe away all the hurt she put him through. "I was weak. I was a pushover." She felt her lips quiver, feeling a fresh set of tears spill from the corner of her eyes.

"Mum's _really_ sorry."

Draco felt something in his chest cave at the sound of his own mother referring to herself in that way. He pushed himself higher on his knees to wrap his arms around her waist, pressing his face against the side of her hip as he cried his heart out.

"I'm sorry, mum! I'm _sorry_ … I won't do it again, I _swear_!"

Draco continued to mumble his apologies, feeling his mother lean down towards him to wrap herself around him protectively.

Narcissa rubbed her fingers gently over his quivering back, nuzzling her cheek against the fabric of his jumper as she cried with him.

He had always been such a sweet boy… A very kind, caring, wonderful little boy…

_(Flashback)_

_"Why are you always sitting by the fountain?"_

_Narcissa blinked at the head that suddenly came into view; wide gray eyes staring at her curiously. She'd been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn't even noticed when he sat right beside her on the bench._

_"Are your flying lessons over?" She asked him, swiping her hands on his shoulders to get rid of the small pieces of grass that clung to the cloth._

_He nodded, still eying her keenly. "Why do you always come here?" He asked again._

_Narcissa stared at the flowing water, smiling a little to herself at the rhythmic splattering sound. "It calms me down."_

_She watched her son tilt his head to one side, folding his arms across his chest as he stared at the fountain with interest. She took note of how the hem of his jumper seemed to be riding up higher than it should be on his wrist. She smiled. It seemed he grew taller once again._

_"Is it the water? Or the noise?"_

_"Hm?"_

_"What calms you down?"_

_Narcissa eyed the inquisitive nine-year-old with amusement. He just never runs out of questions. "Both." She answered truthfully, watching him nod at her with a strange pensive expression on his face._

_"I thought you were lonely."_

_Narcissa blinked a few times at her son, not at all expecting his reply. "What… What made you think that?"_

_"Well…" He scratched the back of his head. "I don't know." He shrugged. "You just kind of looked… sad."_

_Narcissa looked away from the gray eyes that gazed at her with concern. "I'm not… sad, Draco. I'm just… I just like the sound of rushing water." She could feel his eyes linger on her for a moment longer, before he looked down and scratched the back of his head again._

_"Well, you know… if you do get lonely, you can always call me."_

_Narcissa stared back at her son, feeling her lips part at the innocent look on his face. She watched him fold his arms on his chest again, tilting his body to one side as he grumbled._

_"Well… I've got flying training, etiquette lessons, magical history, dancing, astronomy, piano, some herbology…" He scratched his head, growing steadily annoyed at having been reminded of all the work he needed to get done. He sighed._

_"But I'm always just here." He shrugged, looking at her with hopeful eyes. "I'm free after dinner?"_

_Narcissa ran a thumb against his cheek affectionately, feeling him lean into her touch. "I'm fine, Draco. You just focus on your studies."_

_(End of Flashback)_

A very kind, caring, wonderful little boy… who they had ruined with their bigotry and burdened with their sins.

"Mum loves you. Mum will _always_ love you. My sweet, _sweet_ little boy. My Draco." Narcissa hugged him tighter, hearing his sobs grow louder. "And I am so proud of you. So _very_ proud of you." She kissed his back through the fabric of his jumper.

"You're the best son a mother can ever ask for."

* * *

"Don't. You. Fucking. _Dare_."

Pansy stalked slowly towards one of her console tables, careful not to make any sudden movements. "I swear to Merlin, I will skin you alive if you-"

CRASH!

Pansy eyed the broken vase on her tiled floor, screeching towards no one in particular. "You little _cunt_!"

Blaise sighed as he waved his wand to fix the broken porcelain. He levitated it back onto the console table, eying Pansy glare at her cat as it bounded towards Theo by the sofa for protection.

"Pans, how do you expect Cher to warm up to you if you curse at her like that?" Theo rubbed the head of the Russian Blue adoringly. "She's very prideful. She knows her worth after all. She's used to getting her way and if she doesn't, she has a tendency to lash out. She's very particular about aesthetics and-" He paused, finally realizing why the two of them never get along. "She's _you,_ Pans!" He chuckled to himself at the hilarity of it all.

"Just take that bloody twat back!" Pansy yelled, flinching when Cher hissed at her as if she understood the insult.

"I'm reeling from your vocabulary, Pans." Theo shook his head. "You can't just drop a pet you _agreed_ to take in. It doesn't work that way."

"I didn't _agree_ to anything. You forced that little shit on me!" She pointed at the cat, watching it hiss at her once again.

"You _still_ said yes." Theo argued, running his fingers through the animal's majestic silver blue coat as it made itself comfortable on his lap.

"Fine! Bin will take it!"

"Excuse me?" Blaise blinked at his sudden inclusion in the argument. "He already forced one on me!"

"Well, yours is an absolute angel! All it does is cuddle!" Pansy huffed, crossing her arms on her chest, annoyed by the smug look on Blaise's face.

"What can I say, Parks, I'm that irresistible." He shrugged.

Pansy hummed thoughtfully at his response, jutting her chin up in the air to eye him from under her nose. "Let's see if the ladies will still find you irresistible when they hear about that one time you-" A hand was over her mouth in an instant.

"Damn it, Parks, stop it with the anecdotes!" Blaise shifted his gaze towards the expectant look on Theo's face, no doubt waiting for another juicy narrative about him to use as potential blackmail.

Pansy pulled his hand off her, nudging an elbow against his torso in annoyance. "Get off!"

Theo started chuckling at the scene before him. If someone back at Hogwarts told him that Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini were childhood friends, he never would have believed it. Even until now he couldn't fathom how they managed to hide their connection throughout the entirety of their schooling.

"Why does she call you Bin again?" Theo grinned, ignoring the glare Pansy was sending him.

Blaise smirked, knowing full well that the Nott heir never failed to dig up this particular story whenever they were around Pansy. "It's short for Beanie."

"And _why_ does she call you Beanie?" Theo asked further, leaning his head against the sofa he was on as he stroked Cher absentmindedly.

"Cause she couldn't say my name right when we were younger." Blaise shrugged, pursing his lips to try and hide his amusement.

"Which she would say as…" Theo rolled one hand out, urging him to continue.

"Bait Dabini!"

Pansy shoved him on the shoulder, annoyed by the mocking way he hitched his voice to try and imitate the nasal quality of her tone. "Oh shut up!"

"It _never_ gets old!" Theo laughed out loud.

Blaise raised his hands up in protection when he saw Pansy attempt to land a punch on him. “Not the face. Not the face!” He called out jokingly as they ran around the kitchen counter.

Theo continued to chuckle at the story. Pansy could only pronounce the last two syllables of his name up until they were seven. Blaise, on the other hand, absolutely _refused_ to call a girl a 'pansy' since he was raised to be a gentleman. So he called her Parks instead, since Parkinson was too long.

"I still don't get why you guys never wanted people in school to find out that you were childhood friends."

Blaise and Pansy pointed at each other accusatorily.

"He would have been a cock blocker."

"She would have been a cunt blocker."

Theo watched as they high fived one another blindly. He shook his head. They were so in sync it was downright creepy. "Anyway, are the snacks finally ready? I'm all set here."

Blaise levitated the bowl of popcorn towards the coffee table, alongside a platter of cold cuts, cheese and crackers. A chilled bottle of wine and three empty glasses followed suit.

"This better be good." Pansy grumbled as she flopped down onto the couch, making sure to stay a good distance away from Theo and the bitchy cat. She grabbed onto Blaise, maneuvering him between them before he could sit on a different chair.

"They're not all bad."

She eyed him in surprise. "You've _watched_ some?"

"A few." Blaise shrugged. "Theo was _really_ annoying."

Pansy snorted in agreement. She knew exactly what he meant.

"Don't worry, you'll love this movie!" Theo beamed, searching around the home theater for the remote control.

"You're not exactly the most objective person when it comes to the muggle stuff, Theo." Pansy rolled her eyes.

Blaise couldn't help but nod in agreement. "You love everything about it."

"Well, that's because the muggle world lets me be whoever I want to be. I'm not the Nott heir, not my father's son, not a pureblood, not a member of the sacred twenty-eight… Nothing." Theo paused when he finally got a hold of the remote. "I'm just… Theo." He shrugged at them.

Pansy and Blaise blinked at his sudden candidness.

"What about you guys?" He asked in return. "What do you love about it?"

Blaise scratched at his temple, uncomfortable for being put on the spot. But after what Theo just divulged, it felt odd not to answer the question. "The wine and the music." He replied curtly.

Theo raised the rock-and-roll sign towards him. "We can definitely count on you for the booze!"

Blaise glared at him, reminded by all the times the meddling Nott heir raided his wine cellar.

"How about you, Pans?" Theo eyed her curiously.

Pansy rolled her eyes at his lack of subtlety. She knew this was yet another one of his attempts to get her to open herself up to the muggle world. She sighed. "I love that… I can use it as a means to an end." She answered vaguely.

Blaise glanced at her surreptitiously, knowing the hidden meaning behind her words. Making it in the muggle world was her stance against her parents, mostly against her mother. Her father never really had a say in their family affairs after all. Her mother was always the one calling all the shots.

Mrs. Parkinson strived to create connections with other pureblood families because she didn't think Pansy was pretty enough, smart enough, or talented enough to make it on her own. The only way she thought her daughter could survive was to attach herself to another rich, influential pureblood male.

It took the end of the war for Pansy to finally give up on trying to convince her parents that she was worth… something. She decided she would prove to them, and to the entire wizarding community, that she could make it out on her own without any connections, and without any help from her lineage and name.

"I _said_ , can you pass the popcorn?"

Pansy's sudden question snapped Blaise out of his thoughts. He grabbed the bowl off the table, handing it over to her wordlessly. He saw her eye him oddly before taking it out of his hands and gluing her eyes on the screen.

Theo rubbed his palms in excitement as the movie began. He glanced at Pansy from the corner of his eye, feeling a swell of pride towards her for trying. What finally changed, he had no idea; but just the fact that she was willing to give the muggle world a chance made him happy.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

Hermione flinched at the enraged redhead before her, eyes still disoriented from the sudden light of the floo. She could feel the frames of her reading glasses dip down her nose, nearly falling off at her surprise.

"Ginny, what are you-"

"I _asked_ you. So many times! I kept on-" Ginny fisted her hands on her sides, trying her best to reel in her frustration. "I know you've never considered me a close friend, Hermione, but-"

"Ginny, that's not-"

" _Don't_." Came her incensed tone as she raised a hand to silence her. "But I'd like to think that you'd at least have told me something like _that_."

Hermione laid the research files in her hands onto her coffee table, pulling her eyeglasses off to rest them on top of the papers. She rubbed at her tired eyes, sighing as she stood up slowly from the sofa. "What are you talking about?"

" _Malfoy_!" Ginny stomped her foot on the floor, watching the expression on the older Gryffindor's face shift from calm confusion into stunned silence. "You're in a fake relationship with him, and you didn't care to tell me?!"

"How did you-" Hermione let out a sigh of resignation. There was only one person who could have informed her about the deal she made with the blonde pureblood. "Harry told you?"

"Yes!" Ginny started pacing the living room, running a hand through the top of her head, pulling at the tip of her pony tail in aggravation.

Hermione took in a deep breath to calm herself down. It wasn't like she was trying to keep it a secret from her. If anything, she was grateful that the younger witch finally knew.

She clicked her tongue, silently cursing at Harry. He should have at least given her a heads up! If she knew they were on speaking terms again, then she definitely would have asked him to tell Ginny about it.

"It's not that I didn't want to tell you. I just couldn't."

"But you found a way to tell Harry, didn't you?" Ginny cut her off bitterly. "I know I'm not… I'm not someone you feel comfortable opening up to, but _damn it_ , Hermione…" She glanced at her tiredly, but the expression on her face was tight. "Rely on me sometimes."

Hermione felt the back of her eyes sting at the disappointment in Ginny's gaze. She pursed her lips, trying her best to stop them from trembling.

"You don't always have to carry the entire weight of the world by yourself." Ginny chucked a hand towards her in frustration.

Ginny knew that Hermione had always been more of a loner. They may not have been in the same year, but she knew that the older witch preferred books over the company of people. Even during the war she preferred isolation, staying mostly in her designated room in the safe house instead of mingling with the rest of them.

"You can't just keep-" Ginny froze when her gaze landed on the exposed skin of her left forearm. She watched Hermione attempt to hide it from her, flustered at having been found out.

"You _still_ haven't healed that scar?" Ginny's voice quieted down to a whisper as she eyed the bushy haired woman before her in disbelief. Hermione was a healer who specialized in poisoning and dark curses. Curing something as simple as a wound from a cursed blade shouldn't have taken her more than a couple of minutes.

Hermione brought her eyes down when she realized Ginny had moved to stand right in front of her, just an arm's reach away.

" _Why_?"

"I'll get rid of it once I fix my parents."

Ginny tilted her head back, pressing the base of her skull onto the nape of her neck as she squeezed her eyes shut. She huffed, looking back at the stubborn Gryffindor before her who still refused to meet her gaze. "What does healing your parents have to do with getting rid of that mark?"

"It's a reminder, Gin, okay?"

"Of _what_?"

"Of my _mistakes_!" Hermione moved away, turning her back to her as she rubbed the skin of her blemished forearm. "Just… let it go."

Ginny blinked at her choice of words; mouth falling open at the realization of what she knew the older witch was actually referring to. She grit her teeth, fisting her hands to her sides; drawing up the courage to finally confront her about it.

"Does it really have something to do with your parents?"

"What?" Hermione glanced back at her, confused by the meaningful gaze she was sending her way.

"Is it really about your parents? Or are you trying to atone for something else?"

Hermione felt her blood grow cold, sensing a chill run down her spine at the candid question. She saw Ginny's eyes start to tear up, but the younger woman's gaze stayed glued on her resolutely. She swallowed the growing lump in her throat. Why was she looking at her like that?

"I was _there_ , Hermione."

Hermione felt her lips part at the implications of her words. Her chest tightened gradually as her breaths came in and out through short, frantic pants.

No. It couldn't be. No one was there when it happened.

"In the Astronomy tower. During the battle at Hogwarts."

Hermione forgot how to breathe entirely.

"I was there."

_(Flashback)_

_Ginny bit back a moan of pain as she struggled to heal her back and right shoulder. The slicing hex had hit her from behind, making it difficult to assess the extent of the damage. She clicked her tongue in frustration. Why did it have to hit her dominant side?_

_The sound of the door creaking open followed by heavy, calculated footsteps made her whimper silently to herself. She pressed a fisted hand onto her lips to quiet down her breathing, feeling the outline of her wand press firmly against her cheek. She closed her eyes, wishing the disillusionment charm she cast still stood as she hid herself behind one of the many devices that riddled the Astronomy tower._

_She felt all her hope crumble at sight of swishing black robes. She watched the stocky figure turn around, inspecting the expanse of the room, before the skull mask finally lined up towards her direction._

_She felt paralyzed – unable to move, think or breathe – as the death eater's head tilted to one side, wand raising up slowly, feet inching cautiously towards her._

_Had she been spotted?_

_Would she fight?_

_Would she flee?_

_Did she even stand a-_

_A green light whizzed through the air, hitting the cloaked figure square on the back._

_Ginny watched as the death eater fell to the floor; the silver mask hiding his face bouncing off at the impact. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, snapping her head towards the source of the spell._

_There, standing by the entrance, was Hermione Granger with her wand out. A faint green light surrounded her like a halo; the tips of her unruly bushy hair sparking with magic. She glanced down at the dark heap on the floor with hooded eyes, before bringing her outstretched hand down to her side._

_She was out of sight in the next second._

_Ginny swallowed, feeling her body still quivering at the close brush against death, when her eyes landed on the dead man lying a few feet away from where she sat. Her breath hitched at the familiar face._

_Her father had introduced her to the older man a few years ago. She's only ever met him once, but she could never forget his fiercely intimidating countenance. Even now, as he lay lifeless on the floor, the Nott patriarch's eyes still made her shiver._

_(End of flashback)_

Hermione felt her mind go blank at Ginny's admission. She couldn't even bring herself to clarify what the younger witch meant.

They stared at each other, crying silent tears, not knowing how to move forward.

Hermione could still remember how it felt – how exhilarated her entire body was the moment she cast the killing curse. It was a surge of overwhelming power unlike anything she's ever experienced. She felt limitless, bottomless – drunk on something she couldn't quite fathom. And then there was numbness. In an instant, it was as if all her magic had been smothered – barred in a place she couldn't find, couldn't reach. And then came the pain. It wasn't the unbearable, bloodcurdling, earsplitting kind… It was an incessant scratching deep inside her bones, as if someone stuck a quill inside her body, charmed to label her for what she had become.

A murderer.

"Ginny…" Came her soft, desperate plea; her voice breaking as she struggled to fight the overwhelming guilt threatening to drown her entire existence. "I _killed_ someone…" She whispered, as if saying it quietly wouldn't make it real. A sob wracked her body as she fell to her knees.

She was a murderer.

Ginny was on her in an instant, wrapping her in a tight hug, saying nothing as she cried her heart out against her shoulder. Hermione was one of the most righteous people she knew, so the thought of someone like her going against a principle she believed in so strongly… Ginny couldn't possibly fathom her misery.

But could she blame her for her actions?

No. She couldn't.

They were on the losing side of the war, always just narrowly escaping death, and yet The Order insisted that they continue to fight dark curses, unforgivables, and life-threatening hexes with spells like Stupefy and Expelliarmus. After all, their cause would never stoop down low enough to resort to the use of the dark arts.

To say that their line of thinking was _fucked_ _up_ would be the understatement of the century.

Ginny wasn't going to lie. She thought of it too. She lost count of all the nights she stayed up in bed, imagining all the ways she could make the Dark Army pay. _If only we can kill them, too. If only we can hurt them, too._ She would chant to herself, frustrated with the position they were in.

It got worse after Fred died.

She would find the killing curse hanging at the tip of her tongue during every battle – every unexpected raid. But someone would always beat her too it. Someone would always get in the way. She didn't know if she was lucky, or if she was just that much coward for being unable to go through with it.

Ginny felt Hermione slump against her, panicking at her sudden lack of movement, only to realize that the older witch had fallen sleep. She sighed, placing her hands on the sides of her face, combing through the riot of curls that clung to her tear-stained cheeks.

Hermione was always so strong, so put-together, so reliable. She would always walk around as if she had her entire life, and everything in it, under her control; but the truth was, she was the most messed up one of them all.

* * *

Hermione stirred in her sleep, feeling a strange weight over her body. She blinked her eyes open, feeling them water at the familiar burning feeling. She sighed. Had she cried herself to sleep again?

“Finally up, babe?”

Hermione shifted her gaze to stare up at the grinning red-haired witch who had her head propped on one hand, while her other wrapped around her, pulling her close.

“Ginny?” Hermione eyed her disoriented, chuckling at her poor attempt at flirting. Ever since the youngest Weasley found out that hitting on her disturbed Ron, she would make it a point to do it whenever her older brother was within eyesight.

“Want me to make breakfast?”

“No!” The protest was out of her mouth before Hermione could stop herself.

Ginny rolled her eyes, offended by the sheer will of her rejection. “I know I can’t cook to save my life, Hermione, but can’t you at least be nice about it?”

Hermione grinned at her sheepishly. “Sorry.” She pressed her palms together in apology. “Why are you-?” Memories of the previous night finally came back to her.

Ginny felt her stiffen in her arms, eyes blinking widely up at her as they filled with tears. She sighed. "Hermione." She called out to her softly, wiping the tears that fell down the older woman’s face. "I was there, remember?"

Hermione closed her eyes, unable to handle the look Ginny was giving her. She felt the younger witch press their foreheads together, nudging at her slightly, no doubt imploring her to look at her.

"You saved me."

Hermione blinked her swollen eyes open as she searched her face for any hint of a lie. "No I… I didn't know, Gin." She shook her head, denying her claim completely. "I didn't know you were there… The death eater- He… She…"

All Hermione saw was the back of a black hooded cloak, and a hint of a silver mask. That was all she bothered to note before the killing curse zipped right out of her and onto the faceless death eater she hadn't even bothered to identify.

She couldn't even claim that it had been in self-defense. It was a fleeting moment of abandon on her part – a desire to end everything in one decisive blow. She was just so sick of desperately trying to survive. So frustrated with always being on the defensive, watching as their ranks were culled one after another. So tired of fighting for a cause that wouldn't even give them the permission to compete on even grounds.

She just wanted everything to finally be over.

"I was badly injured, hiding behind a disillusionment charm. He was headed right for me." Ginny pressed her hands resolutely against the sides of her face, not allowing her to look away. “Hermione, if you hadn’t come, I would have died.” She looked at her straight in the eye, hoping it would get her point across.

"You _saved_ me."

Hermione felt her lips tremble at the words. Could she believe Ginny? Could she allow herself to think that she hadn't just killed someone in cold blood?

Could she still be forgiven?

"You saved me, Hermione." Ginny reiterated more firmly this time. "You saved me."

Hermione nodded her head, feeling a fresh set of tears spill out from the corners of her eyes. For a moment, she allowed herself to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was quite a heavy chapter with a lot of different elements to it. Don't worry I won't write another ridiculously long author's note :p
> 
> One thing I do want to put into light... is the flashback with the Black sisters. It's short and seems light since the three of them were still kids, but if you were able to comprehend the undertones of it, you'll see it for what it is.
> 
> The simple, seemingly offhanded exchanges between them overshadow the underlying, heavy concept of abuse – how it ends up being cyclical and normalized if unaddressed. It tells Narcissa that since her sisters experienced the same thing and ended up fine, then it shouldn't be that bad. She should just grit her teeth and bear it.
> 
> What's interesting to note here is the parallelism of Bella and Draco's experiences, and how seemingly varied their responses were.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! A kudos and comment would be lovely ^^


	18. Occlumency

Draco stood in front of the fireplace, eying the dancing flames as they swayed alongside an unheard rhythm, taunting him to throw in the handful of green powder he clutched tightly in one hand. He swallowed. It's been almost two weeks since he's last seen Granger. He hasn't heard from her at all since their altercation back at her flat.

He expected her to send him an owl. He already primed himself for her anger, and anticipated that she would back out of the deal, no questions asked. But nothing came.

He lost count of all the letters he penned, but never bothered to send. He told himself he would wait. He forced himself to be patient. But the moment he realized she still hasn't cut their floo connection, he found himself standing in front of the fire, ready to throw in the powder in his hand.

Would he?

Would he _really_?

The last time he walked into her home unannounced, she flipped. But that was mainly because he poked his nose into her research, not because he was there. He blinked.

Or was it?

Draco threw what little powder remained in his grasp into the flames as he walked away, running his clean hand through his face as he tapped his grainy one against his trousers. He flopped down to sit on the couch, leaning the back of his head against the upholstery.

Why was she being so… quiet?

Why wasn't she giving him any shit for invading her privacy?

He groaned. It didn't make any sense. She wasn't acting like he thought she would. What the hell did all her silence even mean?

His gaze landed on the pile of newspapers on his coffee table, surprised by the unexpected turn of events in the past couple of days. To think that people, strangers he didn't even know, had written to the ministry and demanded an explanation regarding the confiscation of his family's manor and Gringotts account… He didn't know what to think.

But if he had to thank someone, he knew it had to be Rita Skeeter. If it weren't for the romanticized picture she painted of him in her tabloid, he was sure he never would have gotten this much sympathy from the masses.

The front page of the prophet had pictures of Kingsley and different members of the Order of the Phoenix being hounded for explanations regarding the unfair treatment the current government had been employing towards purebloods. He snorted. No wonder they gave them the manor back. That way they could still reason out that everything had been done following routine procedure, and that they had kept their word.

Draco looked around the living room of the temporary flat they've been stationed in for more than four months now. Has it only been that long? It felt like a year to him.

In three days, they would... they would finally have the manor back. He ran a hand through his hair. It felt surreal.

His gaze landed back to the fireplace, running a hand through his hair as he checked the time. It was already half past eight, meaning he'd been debating what to do for nearly an hour now. He sighed.

He knew that the latest version of their amended contract required Granger to finish all sixteen dates with him, regardless of whether he got the manor back or not. That meant he was still due eleven more.

He wanted to remind her of that fact. He wanted to reiterate the amended deadline for the dissolution penalty if she would back out, but a part of him couldn't help but feel like he somewhat… owed it to her to just end everything. He shook his head.

No.

A deal was a deal. This was a business transaction after all. They both agreed on the terms and conditions of their own free will, so there should be no hard feelings… Right?

He huffed, rubbing a palm against his face repeatedly as he stood up to grab another handful of floo powder.

Fuck this.

He's been at his wits' end for the past two weeks. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to sleep for more than three hours. He needed an answer, and he needed it _now._ If she would cut things off, then that was that. If she would be pissed at his intrusion, then so be it. He didn't…

He was just so tired of seeing that annoying tear-streaked face of hers every time he closed his eyes. So disgusted with remembering the way she trembled under his hands when he slammed her onto the bed. He wasn't…

It wasn't his intention to hurt her. He didn't mean to make her cry. He just…

Draco threw the powder into the fire, calling out her flat's address as he stepped through the growing green flames. He just wanted the annoying, clawing feeling of guilt out of his chest.

* * *

Draco stepped into the living room of her flat; an eerie feeling of déjà vu hitting him as he took in the darkness around him. Only the light of the moon steaming in through the windows illuminated his surroundings.

He took a deep breath in, calling out to her before taking a hesitant step into her apartment. The last thing he wanted to do was wander around. He didn't need her to be more suspicious of him than she already was.

"Granger?" He called out again, much louder this time. He was still standing by the fireplace, shifting his weight from one leg to another, unsure of what to do with his hands.

"It's… It's me. It's… Draco." He raised his hand a bit in the air before he ran it through his hair. What the hell was he doing trying to put his hand up as if he was trying to get a professor's attention?

His eyes darted all over her apartment, hoping to catch a sight of her. "Granger?" He finally allowed himself to step further into her living room. Was she not home? He glanced at the coat rack by her door, barely making out a scarf and a thick wool cloak hanging against. It didn't seem like she left.

He walked slowly as he moved into her kitchen, careful not to surprise her just in case. It was just as empty and clean as the last time he'd been here. He turned around to check on the bathroom, but the sound of soft whimpers rooted him in place.

His eyes darted towards the source of the soft cries, knowing full well where they were coming from. They sounded muffled, erratic, and… frightened. There was a desperation in every breath; a silent plea in every sob.

A part of him wanted to flee – run up towards the floo, leave and never come back. But there was something about the sound of her stifled cries that made him stay. It was urging him to step further into yet another part of her life that he was sure she never wanted him to see.

His hand was against the wood of her bedroom door before he even realized. He could hear every shuddering breath she took as he turned the knob open; the click of metal sounding like a scream amidst the quiet of the night. He pushed it open slowly, careful not to startle her with any sudden movements.

He was greeted with the sight of her lying petrified on top of her bed as she stared unblinking towards the ceiling. Her hands were limp by her sides as steady tears rolled down the sides of her face; chest lurching irregularly as she struggled to breathe. She was muttering incoherent words in the air, gazing at an invisible entity that seemed to be drawing the very life out of her.

Sleep paralysis.

Draco moved to the side of her bed, gazing at her with his palms out, not knowing what to do. "Granger, w-wake up…" He sat on the edge of her mattress, pausing just before his hands landed on her arms.

Was it okay to touch her? Would that make it worse?

"–ease… don't…" He heard her whisper towards the direction of the roof, urging him to follow her gaze. His eyes landed on the blank plaster of her ceiling, unsure of what she was looking at exactly.

"–atrix…"

He froze at the name he assumed she attempted to say. He turned his head back slowly towards her, forgetting how to breathe entirely. He felt the hair on the nape of his neck stand; the entirety of his back burning at the thought of his aunt looming over him. He felt a chill run down his spine, forcing him to fist a hand against his torso; the other anchoring him onto the mattress for support. He could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears; a steady built of panic threatening to overflow in his chest. He closed his eyes.

It wasn't real. None of it was real _._ She was gone. She couldn't hurt him any more.

She was dead.

"Bell… s-stop… plea-"

Draco opened his eyes when the sound of her pleading was cut short. She looked like she was suffocating now. Wheezing sounds were spilling out of her throat as she grew paler under the light of the full moon streaming in through her glass windows.

His hands were on her in the next second, making her lurch forward – arms flailing in the air as a strangled scream ripped out from her lungs.

Draco struggled to get her hands down as she fought against him, hitting him with a strength he never knew she had. He pulled her into a tight hug, trapping her arms to her sides to stop her from thrashing against him. He held onto her tighter as she continued to resist, whispering soothing shushes into her ear as he struggled to hold in the panic episode threatening to burst out of his chest.

"F-Friday. Today's a Friday, Granger." He began, focusing on creating the calendar he always visualized whenever he felt like he was about to succumb to another attack. He wanted to pull out the bottle of calming draught he had in the inside pocket of his jacket, but doing so would mean he had to let her go.

"It's the 15th… Granger, okay? It's September 15." He closed his eyes, trying his best to keep his voice stable and clear. She was still fighting against him, desperately struggling out of his hold. The fabric of his clothes against his right shoulder were wet with her tears.

"Next Friday would be what? What date, Granger?" He squeezed her against him once, prompting her to answer. His lips were still pressed against her ear, hoping she was able to make sense of his words. "That would be the 22nd. What about the Friday after that?" She didn't respond, but he could feel her initial alarm slowly die down, shifting into a frazzled but quiet confusion.

"It's the 29th, Granger. September 29. Now September only has 30 days, so the next Friday would be October 6… Are you with me, Granger?"

The feel of her nodding slightly against the crook of his neck flooded him with a relief that seemed to override all of his panic. "Now what's next after the sixth of October?" It took a while, but he eventually heard her mumble the answer against his skin.

"Thirteenth…"

He loosened his hold against her, bringing a hand to the back of her head, patting her gingerly in acknowledgement. " _Good,_ Granger. That's correct. Let's keep going."

He continued to guide her throughout the rest of the year's calendar, waiting patiently as she struggled to collect herself. When they finally finished through December, she was drained, slumped against him completely.

Draco let out a breath as he leaned his temple against her head, grateful to see her finally calm down. He felt her push against his chest gently, pulling away from him the moment he released her from his hold.

He watched her slowly move towards the headboard of her bed; massive curls hiding her face as she turned away from him. She leaned her back against it, hugging her knees to her chest; head tucked safely behind her legs and crossed arms. He blinked.

Never before had he seen her look so small and so… defeated. She was always incredibly proud, unshakable, and headstrong, so seeing her like this made him feel…

He looked away. This was something he shouldn't be witnessing. "I'll get you something to drink." He stood up to leave the room, not waiting for a reply.

* * *

Draco knocked against the wood, announcing his arrival despite having the door to her bedroom already ajar. "I, uh… brought you water and tea." He looked away when he realized she was still in the same fetal position he left her in. "I just um… took the chamomile one."

He stood by her bed, feeling incredibly awkward and out of place. "I put back everything I used exactly where I got them." He found himself explaining, not sure why he felt the need to. Should he hand her the mugs he had in his hand, or should he just leave them by the bedside tab–

Memories of the last time he'd been here hit him hard. He was standing right where he had been, staring at the desk where he knew she stashed her vials of dreamless sleep potion.

"Go ahead…"

He blinked at the hoarse voice that reached his ears. It was unmistakably hers, but it sounded darker, defeated… incredibly exhausted. She still had her head bowed low; wild curls flowing out chaotically. He watched as her toes curled underneath her feet; arms tightening their hold against her knees.

"Laugh."

Draco felt the blood drain from his face as he clenched his fingers against the heavy mugs in his grasp. He looked away from her, depositing the water and tea onto the table before he combed his fingers through his hair, glancing at anywhere else but her.

His gaze landed on her research, only then realizing that it now covered two of the four walls of her room. He ran a hand through his face, utterly speechless.

Was this what she'd been doing in the past two weeks?

He wanted to take a closer look, but he knew it would only antagonize her further. He stared back at her crumpled form by the top of the bed; her hunched silhouette haunting under the silver light of the moon.

A part of him felt like he should just… leave. Let her collect her bearings in private and never speak of it again. This was an aspect of her life she probably never even showed anyone, and he was willing to bet that he was the last person on earth she'd wish to see her this way. He blinked.

The thought of Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of their age, being broken made him feel… He shook his head.

He should walk away. He really should. The door was _right there;_ the floo just a couple more steps afterwards. He had no right to be here… No right seeing her like this. Leaving was the only logical option.

So… why couldn't he bring himself to?

Why didn't he want to?

His eyes were still on her, unable to look away. This was a version of her that he never thought could be real. It shook his entire image of who she was, and everything he ever knew about her.

He ran a hand through his hair as he looked for a place to plant himself. Since she hasn't yelled at him to get the hell out of her flat yet, he decided he might as well stay.

He moved towards the window sill adjacent to her bed, glancing at her tentatively to see if she would react. He sat down slowly, stuffing his hands inside his trousers' pockets as his eyes darted back towards her littered wall.

They both sat in silence in the darkness of the room lit only by the shifting light of the moon.

"How often do you get them?"

Hermione barely made out what Malfoy had said. His voice was low and soft, as if he wasn't sure if he should speak or not. She stared at him through the corner of her eyes, seeing him hunched against the window pane with his gaze fixed on the floor.

"The nightmares." He pushed on, noticing her eying him from under her bushy hair. "Do you get them often?"

She looked away, leaning one side of her face against her crossed arms, gazing at the open door of her bedroom. "Why do you want to know? Looking for more reasons to make fun of me?"

Draco let out a long exhale, rubbing the back of his neck in discomfort. "I'm not."

"Of course you aren't."

Draco ignored the bitter sarcasm in her tone, reminding himself that she was lashing out because he once again caught her at vulnerable state. He sighed. That, and the fact that he never really gave her a reason to trust him in the first place.

He scratched the back of his head, deciding to go about it a different way. "You know a bit of Occlumency, don't you?"

"How did you…?"

"Back when I was at Saint Mungos." He looked at her fully now, seeing her raise her head off her knees to stare at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes. "I saw you."

Hermione closed her eyes. To think that he noticed even though she was standing quite a few feet away from his hospital bed. She sighed. She'd been that obvious, huh?

"It helps." He began, looking back down on the floor. "Occlumency can keep the nightmares at bay." He knew he was probably going to regret admitting that later on, but there was a part of him who felt like it was okay to let her know.

Maybe it was darkness of the room, or perhaps the late hour of the night… It could be the pitiful look in her eyes, or the weird weight on his chest… But there was strange, inexplicable need for him to just… help.

"I'm not good at it." She admitted bluntly. There was no point in lying. There weren't any books written about it, and what little published anecdotes concerning it were simply vague assumptions.

She only ever used Occlumency when she absolutely had to, because hers was unreliable. Whatever feeling she tried to snuff out would always come back tenfold as a nightmare. She sighed. The repercussions of its use overshadowed its gains.

Her nightmares have steadily gotten worse in the past few months. They usually disappeared and resurfaced in random spurts, but lately, they've been growing more and more constant – almost daily. They forced her to rely heavily on potions just to get a restful night's sleep, but she could tell that they were gradually starting to fail as her body slowly adapted to them. She grit her teeth.

Everything started getting worse ever since he came along – ever since they started this whole arrangement. She fisted her hands against the fabric of her pajama pants.

Seeing him reminded her too much of the past.

"What makes you say that?"

The question made her look at him weird. What exactly was he trying to achieve by asking her that?

Seeing her eye him skeptically, Draco ran a hand through his hair in discomfort, shifting his gaze back down to the floor. He had absolutely no idea how to talk to her without seeming suspicious. He sighed.

He no longer had nightmares because of his Occlumency. Everything had been carefully sealed up and stashed in places that were difficult to find; almost impossible to release while he was in his sleep. When he was awake though, certain stimuli would jostle the locks in his mind, catching him completely off guard.

Sometimes by the waft of a familiar scent; other times through the echoes reverberating against the walls. A certain sensation against his skin, or the sound of a distinct phrase or sentence could do it too, but being faced with a solid imagery was always the strongest trigger.

Small cracks in his Occlumency would usually present as generalized anxiety, but when the darker, more traumatizing memories get free, he would spiral into full-blown panic episodes.

Draco looked at her tentatively, seeing the dubious expression still etched on her face. He sighed again. He just wanted to make her understand that if her Occlumency improved, she'd be able to keep the nightmares in check.

"How does your Occlumency look like?"

She blinked, narrowing her eyes at him, unsure of what he was trying to do exactly.

"The first step is to visualize something. A place that can serve as a space for your memories." He folded his arms across his chest, eying her curiously. "So what's yours? What did you envision?"

Hermione scanned him from head to toe before staring him straight in the eye. "Why are you asking all these questions?"

"People usually go for a place they're comfortable with. Something familiar. An environment they can easily navigate that has things that can be used as substitutes for memories."

"Malfoy, what are you doing?"

Draco looked at her with wide eyes, caught off guard by the unexpected question. "Huh?"

"Why are you telling me all this?" She raised a brow at him in disbelief. Was he seriously trying to _teach_ her?

He looked away, not quite knowing the answer to that either. "I'm… I'm good at it, Granger. I learned from the best for years. I'm sure you already know that there aren't any reliable written works about Occlumency that you can learn from." He took a breath, schooling the expression on his face before glancing back at her.

"So I'm your best bet."

Hermione finally uncurled herself, crossing her legs underneath her as she folded her arms across her chest. "Why would _you_ bother to teach _me_ Occlumency?"

He looked away again; one hand ran through his hair as the other tucked inside the pocket of his slacks. ' _As a way to make amends_ ', he stopped himself from saying. She wouldn't believe it even if he meant it anyway.

"The ministry is handing us back the manor." He began. The lack of a reaction from her told him she's probably read about it in the news. "And… The contract we amended–"

"Compels me to finish the rest of the agreed upon 16 dates." She finished for him, not the least bit bothered. She knew he would slap the conditions of their agreement to her face.

She's already thought of every single thing she could possibly do to get out of it, but there was nothing. She had no more leverage. She needed that money now more than ever, and it wasn't like she could pay him 250,000 Galleons either. He had been very particular about amending that aspect of the contract to rectify his earlier mistake of not including a deadline for the fine.

"Yes, well… As an added incentive, should you wish to accept…" He paused, stressing that part of his offer. "I can help you with your Occlumency."

Hermione felt her lips part, completely blindsided by his statement. She watched him fidget under the scrutiny of her gaze as he sat against her window sill, looking entirely unsure of himself.

Was he seriously telling the truth? Or was this another one of his acts? She scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. What could he possibly gain by teaching her Occlumency?

"It's up to you." He shrugged. "But like I said, it helps with the nightmares." He paused to send her a knowing look. "Believe it or not, Granger, I would know."

Hermione scanned his eyes for any telltale hints of dishonesty, huffing to herself when she couldn't make out anything from his gaze. He was frustratingly impossible to read.

"So tell me where you currently are, Granger." His tone was back to being clipped and formal. "What do you envision?"

She took a moment to just look at him. Despite the huge possibility of him having yet another hidden agenda under his sleeve, he was right about one thing – he had the knowledge. It was information she had absolutely no access to. There was nothing about Occlumency that she could read, and no one else she could really learn from.

She once asked Harry about it, but she could tell his sessions with Snape wasn't something he particularly enjoyed recalling. She was desperate to learn, but the last thing she wanted was for him to feel uncomfortable.

"Darkness." She finally allowed herself to answer, deciding to humor him for a bit. If he was seriously offering her his knowledge for free, then she would take it. But the moment she would sense even a sliver of a lie from him, she would reject the offer entirely.

He raised a confused brow at her. "What do you mean?"

"I…" She huffed, feeling strangely exposed at being nitpicked by someone like him. "I picture a dark place." She felt herself grow steadily uncomfortable as he scrutinize her in silence. "That's it." She added as an afterthought. His position against the glow of the moon made his silver eyes pop out in the dark, making them look eerie and daunting.

"Let me guess, this 'darkness' is where you dump all the memories and emotions you don't like?"

She nodded.

He took a deep breath in, exhaling it slowly, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. A sarcastic quip was at the tip of his tongue, but he caught himself before he could say another word.

How on earth did she end up resorting to such a ridiculous method?

"You can't use that, Granger." He shook his head. "It's too vague, and it allows no opportunity for organization. Remember what I said. You need to visualize a place you feel safe in. A place you're incredibly familiar with so you can navigate through it even in your sleep." He paused to watch her contemplate his words. He could almost hear the cogs in her brain turning.

"It needs to have items you can use to store memories in, or serve as substitutes for them. You need to be able to sort through them easily, and memorize their orientation and location so you know where to keep certain things, and where to find them exactly."

"The library." She answered almost immediately without a single ounce of doubt.

Draco pursed his lips; the beginning sounds of laughter threatening to bubble out of his throat. The warning look she sent him made him swallow his amusement. She could be so damn predictable sometimes. He cleared his throat.

"Good choice." He nodded his acceptance, trying his best not to add any unnecessary remarks. "The library has a restricted section. It could easily be where all your unwanted memories go." He watched her close her eyes, no doubt attempting to visualize what he just said. He opened his mouth to stop her, but decided otherwise. This was something she needed to charge to experience.

Hermione clutched her head, wincing in pain at the feel of her mind rejecting her efforts to organize it. She clicked her tongue, attempting to try again, when she heard him call out to her.

"Granger, stop. You're going about it the wrong way."

"Then how?" She eyed him in annoyance.

"How does a library look like?"

She looked at him as if he just grew another head. "Are you seriously asking me that question?"

He rolled his eyes. Why was she always so argumentative? "I'm sure you know what it looks like, Granger. I'm asking you for a reason. I'm trying to make a point."

She folded her arms across her chest. "Which is?"

"When you go to a library, do you immediately see the restricted section?" He raised a challenging brow at her. "No. Of course not. You see the structure first. How does it look like from the outside? Is it a fortress? A building? Or does it look more like a house? It could even be a small one confined to a simple room." He paused to eye the look of understanding in her face. He wanted to smirk at her in triumph, but he knew that would get them nowhere.

"Is it several meters off the ground or is it in a basement? What is it made of? Wood? Stone? Marble? How many floors? What are the measurements of each floor? What color are the walls? How does the ceiling look like? Does it have elevators or just stairs? How many exits? Does it have rooms? How about furniture? Tables? Chairs? Are there windows? What size and how many? Is it day or night? Is time frozen or does it move? How about the weather? Does it change or is it constant?"

Hermione blink at him, stunned by the amount of detail he took into consideration.

"And that's only the aesthetics of the place. We haven't even started on the shelves, their positioning, and the number of sections and books." He shrugged. They were only at the tip of the iceberg. "When you have total control over the context, you can manipulate it to your heart's content. That way it would be difficult for anyone to penetrate through your mind, the same way it would be hard for your memories to be unaccounted for."

Hermione nodded at him in silence, finally beginning to understand things a lot more clearly.

Draco tore his gaze away from the look of wonder she was sending him, running a hand through his hair at the strange restlessness it evoked in him. He cleared his throat to get rid of the awkward feeling.

"There are people who are so talented with Occlumency that they could even create false memories within their real ones."

_Which one, Draco?_

He shook his head as Bellatrix's voice rang in his head. It was one of the things she taught him just before the war began. She would show him two nearly identical visions, asking him to identify which one was legitimate, and which one was fabricated.

It would range from something trivial like her having different meals for breakfast, to something as traumatizing as her killing or torturing someone. Whenever he got the answer right, she would increase the number of visions, not stopping until he was close to passing out.

_How about now, Draco. Which one?_

The most number he'd been able to tell apart were four repetitive memories that all ended differently. It was impossible for him to decipher any more than that.

_Don't like it? Then get rid of it._

The false memory of him gutting a unicorn with a cursed dagger suddenly played in his head. Bellatrix shoved it in his mind, challenging him to figure out a way to erase it. The amount of detail in it was– He shook his head, pushing the image back into the recesses of his mind. He never did learn how to remove it.

She never taught him how.

He took a deep breath in to calm himself, tensing the muscles in his hand as he fought the shiver threatening to wrack his whole body.

His aunt's skills in Occlumency and Legilimency were unparalleled and… otherworldly. It was the sole reason why she'd been able to elude imprisonment all those years. They could never find a single shred of evidence against her.

"For those gifted in both Occlumency and Legilimency… There are a select few capable of imbedding fake visions in the minds of others."

Hermione felt goosebumps all over her arms at the memory of Harry relaying to her how Voldemort had successfully planted an image of him torturing Sirius in his head. She chanced a glance at Malfoy, seeing him don a faraway look in his eyes. It was the kind he would always have whenever he seemed to be stuck in a particular memory.

"What does yours look like?" She found herself asking, trying to reel him back in. She watched him blink at her, slightly disoriented by the sudden question.

"It's…" He glanced down at the floor. "…different."

She raised a brow at his vague answer, clearly not satisfied.

"It would be reckless for me to reveal how I organize my mind, Granger." He sent her a pointed gaze. "It would be much easier for a Legilimens to get in my head if that were the case."

"Well, I'm not a Legilimens." She argued, folding her arms across her chest. "Besides, it's unfair that you know mine, but I don't know yours."

He snorted at her, amused by her claim. "Granger, you can't brag about having your own form of Occlumency when all you have at the moment is _darkness_." Came his mocking response. The prickly expression on her face made him want to laugh.

"Work on your library first, Granger. If you succeed, then…" He paused, considering whether he would say the next words or not. "…Then maybe I'll tell you what mine is."

She raised a brow at the challenge. If he thought for a moment she wouldn't be able to do it, he should think twice.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" He scanned her offhandedly, jutting a chin towards her, prompting her to get started. "Get to work.

She narrowed her eyes at him, not bothering to grace him with a reply as she closed her eyes and focused on her library. It would be the biggest, most glorious tower in all of the wizarding world, filled with mountains upon mountains of books stuffed in alphabetically arranged shelves, and divided perfectly into clear-cut, meticulously labeled sections. She grinned.

* * *

Hermione cursed for the umpteenth time as a sharp pain zipped through her head once again. This was torture!

" _Please_ tell me you at least made it through to the front door this time?" Came Draco's bored drawl.

She didn't even have it in her to argue with him anymore. The throbbing of her head was nearly intolerable, making her groan against the mattress she was pressing it against.

Draco eyed her crunched form on the bed wordlessly. She was still sitting with her legs crossed under her, but her entire torso was bent forward to rest her face against the bed. He sighed. He already told her this wasn't something she could force herself to learn in one sitting, but she insisted to keep trying. He rolled his eyes. It was like watching someone self-destruct over and over again.

"Granger." He finally pinched the bridge of his nose. " _Stop_."

"I almost have it." She muttered against the mattress.

He rolled his eyes again, done with her Gryffindor obstinacy. "Yes, I'm sure. Which is why you have such a magnificent headache at the moment."

She lifted her head off the bed to glare at him.

"Are you finally ready to hear what I have to say?"

She eyed the patronizing look he was sending her in disdain. Every fiber of her being bristled at the thought of being tutored by someone like him. If only he wasn't so condescending about things, then she wouldn't have that much of a problem actually listening to him.

"Let's give up on the library for now." He raised a hand to silence her growing dissent. "Let's start with something simpler. This is still considered your first attempt after all. Your _darkness_ didn't really do much to prepare you."

Hermione grit her teeth, nearing the cusp of just rejecting his coaching altogether.

"Let's start with a bookshelf. A tiny one." Draco looked up at the ceiling in deep thought. "Just two stacks with a capacity of ten books. Five in each row." He turned his gaze back down towards her. "Top shelf is for good memories, bottom shelf is for bad ones." He nodded at her. "Give it a try."

She took a deep breath in, letting it out through her nose slowly. She wanted to insist on working on the library, but she could understand his rationale regarding the need to downgrade it. She huffed. That didn't mean she appreciated it though.

She closed her eyes, trying her best to concentrate on the image in her head.

"Let's do a simple sorting task, Granger."

She fisted her hands over her thighs. With her eyes closed in the dimly lit room, his voice sounded closer, more… intimate. She shook her head, willing her mind to focus on her thoughts.

"The memory of getting your Hogwarts letter. Where does it go?"

She opened her eyes to send him an annoyed glance. "Really?" Was he seriously going to talk her through this?

"Your job is to _visualize_ it, Granger. Will you store it in a book of its own? Or list it down as a chapter in a volume, alongside other memories? Will the book be thick? Thin? What color? Size? Paper-back or Hardbound? Will it have labels?" He eyed her tiredly, realizing her earlier irritation had shifted into begrudging acceptance.

"Occlumency takes a lot of patience, focus, and attention to detail. A near-perfect memory helps too. But even if you think you have all those, only experience can get you to learn."

Hermione looked away from him, closing her eyes once again to envision her two-row bookshelf. It would be a simple wooden one, similar to something she had back in her childhood room at her parents' house. She smiled.

The memory of her Hogwarts letter would be a thin hard-bound book with a maroon cover embossed with gold labels. She would keep it separate from all the others, because it was one of the memories she always drew power from whenever she would cast her Patronus.

Draco sat in silence, blinking at the content expression on her face; the small smile on her lips gradually blooming into a goofy grin. He blinked again. The idea of being happy while engaging in Occlumency was so… foreign to him. He couldn't recall a single instance it had been an enjoyable experience for him.

How could it? He had his aunt breathing down his throat during every moment of it.

He shook his head, redirecting his attention back to Granger. "The moment you walked out of Professor Trelawney's class." He smirked when he saw her face fall almost instantly at the mention of Divination.

Draco scanned through his memories of her, looking for something worthy of being placed in her 'good pile'. Images of her laughing started playing in his head… When she offered him her used phone. When she held his hand during the Quidditch match. When she– He blinked.

Where the hell was his mind wandering?

"When you had been the first to execute Wingardium Leviosa during Charms." He settled on instead, saying it through gritted teeth. He rolled his eyes when he saw a small smirk replace her scowl.

"The time I'd been the only one who successfully brewed Felix Felicis." He grinned, watching her frown instantly at the memory. He could still recall the look of disbelief and jealousy that flashed through her face when Professor Slughorn congratulated him, awarding 50 points to Slytherin for his achievement.

"The Yule Ball." He snorted, fighting the urge to vomit when a small mysterious smile graced her lips. He certainly did _not_ need to know what the hell that was about.

He grinned when he found an image of her grumbling by the Quidditch stands, recalling how he searched for her specifically after he was done relishing in pothead and weasel's grief. "That match during fourth year when I finally caught the snitch and left Potter groveling in defeat!"

Hermione snapped her head towards him, breaking her concentration just so she could glare at him. "One match, Malfoy. You won _one_ match against Harry." She paused to raise a brow at him. "How many did he win against you?"

He grit his teeth, fighting the urge to argue back.

"Now if you don't mind? I'd like to do this in silence. I think I've gotten a handle of it."

"Oh?" He folded his arms across his chest. "And what makes you so sure about that?"

"I can see them now. The wooden shelf, the books…" She fought a smile, careful not to show him too much enthusiasm. "They're not disintegrating just like the library earlier."

Draco nodded at her. "Good." He saw her start to eye him curiously, feeling himself grow steadily anxious under her gaze. "What?"

"Who taught you?"

"Huh?"

"Occlumency." She clarified, knowing full well he knew exactly what she meant. "Who taught you?"

He look away from her scrutinizing eyes. "Family."

_(Flashback)_

_Draco fisted his hands to his sides, taking in a shuddering breath as he steeled himself for what was to come. He could feel the soles of his shoes slide against mossy concrete as he scanned floors upon floors of steel prison cells lodged inside a complicated network of sewers. He swallowed._

_He absolutely hated this setting. Why couldn't his aunt have gone for her childhood home, Diagon Alley, or Hogwarts instead? He clicked his tongue. This version of her Occlumency was the most difficult one to deal with._

_"You have ten minutes, Draco."_

_He flinched at the sound of Bella's voice echoing around him. He turned around slowly, glancing at the huge expanse of the penitentiary, utterly clueless where to begin. He moved towards the closest cell door, placing a hand against the cool steel, peeking through the square peephole riddled with small iron bars._

_The feel of something banging against it made him lurch backwards, falling clumsily onto the slimy floor. He froze when his gaze landed on a gigantic golden eye staring at him through the bars of the door. The growling sounds that started seeping through, followed by slashes of thick claw marks against the steel, made him bolt away in panic, running towards an unknown destination._

_He was barely a couple of meters away when one of the prison cells at the end of the hallway flung open. He scurried to a halt, taking on a defensive stance as he eyed the darkness of the chamber. He could hear every beat his heart made as he took in one frantic breath after another. Perhaps it was empt–_

_Hissing sounds started reverberating from the end of the hall, making Draco's blood grow cold at the sight of two gigantic silver eyes zoning in on him from inside the cell. He tried to force his consciousness out of Bellatrix's, but he couldn't._

_She wouldn't let him._

_The sound of something being dragged against the slippery stone floor made Draco want to run away, but the elliptical orbs that locked in on him paralyzed him. He fell backwards helplessly at the sight of the monster that slithered out of its cage. It lunged at him in the next second, not even allowing him to scream._

_Draco fell on his knees, coughing uncontrollably as he leaned his head against the cold marble floor. He fought the urge to empty the contents of his stomach, blinking to get his vision cleared as he eyed his surroundings._

_He was back at the manor._

_"That was pitiful, Draco."_

_He closed his eyes, trying desperately to collect his bearings. "I'm sorry, Aunt Bella."_

_"All you had to do was get to one memory, Draco. One."_

_He looked up from his position on the floor to see her gazing down at him with cold eyes, clearly disappointed. "It's too difficult." He admitted weakly, leaning his forehead back onto the cool floor._

_A pair of hands held onto the fabric of his jumper, forcing him to his feet. The livid look she sent him made him cower in fear._

_"I've spent the last five years teaching you, and this is all you have to show for it?"_

_He couldn't even bring himself to apologize. The coldness of her silver eyes silenced any form of rebuttal._

_Bellatrix shoved him away, compelling him to stand on his own two feet. She folded her arms across her chest, darting her gaze back down towards the space he occupied earlier._

_Draco felt the blood drain from his face._

_"Again."_

_(End of flashback)_

"Draco!"

The sound of his name made him snap back to reality. Draco blinked, surprised to see her sitting at the edge of her bed, nearly an arm's length away from where he was by the window.

Hermione scanned the blank look on his face, disturbed by the eerie look in his eyes. "Why do you do that?"

He blinked again, still disoriented. "Do what?"

"Disappear somewhere."

He turned away, running a hand through his face. "I was just… thinking." He could tell by the look she was sending him that she didn't believe a word he said. He cleared his throat, pointing a finger towards her forehead.

"Just keep working, Granger. Fill up the book shelf so we can call it a night."

Hermione swallowed down the urge to pry. The last thing she wanted was for them to start arguing again. He was right about what he said last time – it was _his_ life. She had no business meddling in his affairs. Besides, it wasn't like they were friends. Not even close. He was just a business partner, and that was that.

Hermione moved back to her position against the headboard, crossing her legs underneath her as she pulled a pillow over her lap. "You can go, Malfoy. I can handle the rest myself."

Draco shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest resolutely. "I'll leave when you're done."

She huffed at his insistence, threading her fingers over the pillow as she closed his eyes. If he was going to be stubborn about it and lose sleep over this, then so be it.

Draco leaned back against the window pane, gazing vacantly at the ceiling before he shut his eyes. He strengthened the locks in his mind, willing back the visions of his aunt swimming in his head. He wanted her gone. He wanted her out of his head. He chuckled soundlessly at the irony of it all.

All the things he hated learning from her… were the only things capable of keeping him sane.

He pressed the palm of his hands against his eyelids; the punishing pressure giving him a temporary relief. He felt exhausted. He couldn't believe how easily a simple conversation about Occlumency had almost triggered him. He sighed, genuinely glad he didn't succumb to another attack with Granger here to witness it.

He brought his hands back down, blinking repeatedly to clear out the spots that formed from the weight he pushed against his eyes. He glanced back at Granger, surprised to see her slumped against the headboard, fast asleep. He sighed.

Draco pushed himself off the window sill, moving to eye her cautiously. "Granger?" He tapped an experimental hand against her knee. "Hey." He huffed. If she was going to sleep, why didn't she just lie down? Her position looked incredibly uncomfortable.

He knelt on the bed slowly, careful not to wake her up. He circled an arm around her shoulders, keeping her steady as he straightened her legs out across the mattress. He placed his forearm under her knees, lifting her up slightly to slide her down. He pulled his arms out from under her delicately, taking her intertwined hands in his own, while he lifted the pillow off her lap.

Draco froze, holding his breath when he saw her stir slightly in her sleep. When he realized he hadn't woken her up, he positioned the pillow under her head, placing her hands on top of her belly. He cursed when he realized her blanket was trapped under the lower half of her body.

He moved it out inch by inch, making sure not to make any sudden movements. When he finally freed it from under her weight, he pulled it over her, making sure it reached all the way up to her shoulders.

He scanned her tucked form under the covers, nodding to himself as he rested his palms against his lap. He turned around to step off the bed when he felt her shift to face his direction. He paused completely, leaving one foot hanging out onto the floor, while the other was tucked underneath him.

He chanced a glance at her, seeing a riot of curls now engulfing her face. He fought the urge to laugh, pursing his lips to muffle the sounds that escaped his throat.

He ran his fingers through her hair, surprised to find that they were softer than they looked. He always assumed it would be a mess of rough tangles and coarse strands. He hummed at his newfound discovery.

Her hair was unexpectedly smooth and silky.

He combed the curls towards the back of her head, tucking a few stray strands behind her ear, careful not to wake her. When her face was finally free of hair, he smiled to himself, running the back of his fingers against her cheek. She looked–

He froze, pulling his hand back abruptly as if it landed on scalding water. He wiped his palms against the fabric of his trousers, trying to get rid of the feel of curls against his skin.

What the fuck was he doing?

He pushed himself off the bed, finally tearing his eyes away from her as he shook himself out of whatever stupor he seemed to have landed in. He walked out the room, fighting the strange urge to look back at her, confused by his uncharacteristic behavior.

He knew it's been a good couple of weeks, but perhaps that raw egg really _did_ get to him. He shook his head again. Or maybe it was the sleep deprivation? He nodded to himself as he headed to the floo.

Yes, that was probably it.

There was no other explanation for that temporary moment of insanity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was honestly surprised to see that this story has reached over 500 kudos now...
> 
> Thank you to everyone who left one, and to those who never fail to leave a comment! This is a purely self-indulgent project brought about by boredom from the lockdown, and the desire to challenge myself. This is my first long fic in a very very long time (the first one was back when I was a kid so let's not talk about that lol) and doing this has given me a newfound respect to all fanfiction writers who write ridiculously long stories!
> 
> Thank you for reading! A kudos and a comment would be very much appreciated :)


	19. Make It Go Away

"One more time! To Pansy!" Theo raised his wine in the air, bending forward off the couch to urge everyone to join in.

Pansy rolled her eyes as she clinked her glass with three others; gaze landing on the only blonde in the room. She honestly hadn't expected Draco to actually come to her boutique's ribbon cutting ceremony. She had a hunch he'd been strong-armed by Blaise and Theo, but judging by the relaxed expression on his face, she could tell his being here was his own choice.

Sure the three Slytherin men didn't actually stay for the entire celebration. They just stood and watched as she cut the red wrapping off the front door before announcing their leave. So when she found them lounging in her apartment's living room with all her wards taken down, she threw a few stinging hexes at Theo, cursing at him for breaking into her flat once again, before finally accepting a glass of wine from Blaise.

"Okay, I know I've said it before…" Theo began, scanning the room to look at each of his friends pointedly. "But can you guys seriously just add me to your wards? I know I'm a genius and everything, and that you all love challenging me with your… _cute_ protective enchantments." He paused to grin, not allowing himself to say anything further about their pathetic attempts at warding. "But it's really getting old!"

"Oh Theo…" Pansy cooed, turning her gaze onto Blaise. "Do you want to tell him, or should I?"

Blaise glanced back at the smirking woman sitting beside him on the couch, tilting his head towards the Nott heir, silently telling her to lay it on him.

"Theo, you're _not_ welcome."

Theo scoffed at her teasing. "I know for a fact that that is an _absolute_ lie. You guys love me!" He huffed when no one else responded in affirmation, taking a huge gulp of wine from his glass. "Fine, then. Go find someone else to make your unregistered port-"

"I love you, Theo."

"You're the best, mate."

Theo rolled his eyes at Pansy and Blaise's immediate but deadpan replies. It sucked to have Slytherins as friends. He turned his gaze to the quiet, chuckling blonde seated beside him on the sofa. "What are you laughing at?"

Draco shook his head in amusement. "Nothing. Just that you're as dramatic as ever."

"Me? Dramatic?" Theo hummed to himself, nodding his head slowly. "What was that thing that happened during third year again?" He pretended to think hard, folding one arm across his chest while he tapped a finger against his chin. He shut his eyes tightly, as if recalling the memory was an absolute chore. "Hagrid's class. Care of magical creatures." He snapped his eyes open, flailing his hands out in the air mockingly.

"It's killed me! It's killed me!"

Blaise started choking on his wine, coughing through the chuckles that escaped his throat.

Pansy looked away, hiding her grin behind her wineglass.

Draco raised his middle finger at the Nott heir, glaring at him in disdain.

Pansy watched in confusion as Blaise and Theo flipped the gesture towards each other as well, before bursting into laughter. "What on earth are you imbeciles doing?"

Theo threw his middle finger up in the air again, with Blaise and Draco following suit almost immediately. All three started laughing at the inside joke.

Pansy scoffed at the scene before her. They were acting like bunch of idiots. "Do you guys even know what it means?"

"A penis and balls." Blaise answered in huffs, still winded from bouts of laughing.

"Not _exactly_." Pansy corrected, feeling three pairs of eyes land on her instantly. Her brows rose when she saw Theo's panicked gaze, silently willing her to stop talking. Her lips parted in understanding, glancing towards Blaise and Draco tiredly. "It means, 'fuck you'."

Blaise and Draco glared at Theo, watching him raise his hands up in mock surrender.

"Surprise!" He called out through gritted teeth, hunching his shoulders to braise himself for their backlash.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Even if it did mean a penis and a set of balls, why the hell would you guys flip the symbol of the male genitalia at each other?" She raised an eyebrow, noticing all three men eye each other, utterly clueless. She watched them flip the gesture at one another again, laughing at the whole thing.

She scoffed. She was surrounded by morons.

"Why didn't you invite Potter to your opening, Pans?"

She narrowed her eyes at the vengeful smirk Theo sent his way. The little _shit_.

"Wait, what?" Blaise raised his palms up in the air, eying Pansy incredulously.

"They've been seeing each other for quite some time now!" Theo added, making Draco choke on his wine.

"Wait… _What_?!" Blaise shifted his entire body to glance at his childhood friend in disbelief. How could he not have known this?

"Fix your wording, idiot." Pansy called out, glaring at Theo's smug grin before flipping her hair onto her back in annoyance. "I'm not dating him. We just ran into each other a few times. He kept pestering me about-"

"Seriously, Parks? Potter?" Blaise shook his head.

"Bin, I just said I'm _not_ dating him." She clicked her tongue when his gaze stayed on her, clearly not believing a word she said. "I'm telling the truth!" She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her wine.

"Oh don't be a hypocrite, Blaise! You've got Weasley after all."

"Fucking hell, Theo!"

Now it was Pansy's turn to choke on her wine. "Excuse me, _what_?!"

"It's just sex." Blaise grumbled out loud, feeling his skin prick at the sheer amount of attention on him.

"Yeah… And asking me to make unregistered portkeys to five star hotels all over the world proves that." Came Theo's sarcastic remark.

"What?!" Pansy raised a hand in the air, still in shock. "Wait, which Weasley are we-"

"The youngest one!" Blaise cut her off, annoyed by the pointless question.

"Ginny _fucking_ Weasley?" Pansy took a moment to just… look at him. "Oh Bin…" Came her patronizing tone.

"Don't look at me like that!" He scanned her with an equally judgmental gaze. "You're the one messing around with Potter!"

"It was _one_ lunch! You're the one dating a Gryffindor!"

"It's _just_ sex, Parks!"

"Oh, then the five star hotels all over the world was just an afterthought, huh?"

"So what if I want to fuck in comfort?!"

"Comfort and romance are two very different things!"

"Relax guys. Draco's with Granger too, so it seems there's a bug going around." Theo paused to grin at the glowering expression on his childhood friend's face, no doubt annoyed at being dragged into the argument. "A _love_ bug." He wagged his eyes teasingly.

"I still can't believe that you're-"

"It's not what you-"

"I'm not bloody lying about-"

"For fuck's sake, I just said-"

"Damn it! There's absolutely nothing going on-"

"I swear to Merlin it's not-"

Theo grinned at the scene before him, silently watching the three Slytherins debate with each other as he sipped his wine casually. This was so much better than any muggle reality show he's ever seen!

* * *

Theo stood by the counter, eying Draco's back as he held onto a few bags of popcorn. He was reading the instructions carefully, clearly not knowing what to do with them. He pursed his lips to stop himself from laughing out loud.

When the chaos finally died down earlier, they realized they were all out of snacks. They picked rock-paper-scissors to decide who would refill the bowls. Having never played the muggle game before, with none of them bothering to teach him, the blonde suffered an inevitable loss.

Theo grabbed a bag off his hands, stuffing it in the microwave as he pushed a few buttons. He noticed Draco glancing at him with wide eyes as he operated the muggle device. "You press this button first to pick the heating setting, then you just move these arrows here to change the time." He took another packet off Draco's grasp to point at the instructions. "It says three minutes."

Theo watched the blonde nod stiffly, eying the inside of the moving box cautiously. He couldn't help but laugh. "It's not going to _bite_ you."

Draco rolled his eyes, annoyed by Theo's amusement. "Whatever."

"You do the rest of them." He dropped the bag back onto the Malfoy heir's hold. The look of disbelief he got made him cock a brow up. "What? You didn't get how to operate it?"

"I got it." Came Draco's prideful tone, scrunching his eyebrows as he watched the twirling bag inflate gradually inside the microwave.

"I'll leave you to it, then." Theo paused from walking away when he saw Draco snap his head at him. He grinned. "What? _Scared_?"

"No, you bloody idiot." He grumbled, folding his arms across his chest as he stared at the lit up device.

Theo pursed his lips once again, stepping out of the kitchen to hide himself behind a wall. He swallowed down his laughter, eying Draco with a mix of pride and apprehension.

"What the hell are you doing over there?"

Theo raised a finger over his lips, shushing Blaise to stop him from making any further inquiries. "Draco's about to operate his first muggle appliance!" He whispered, trying to contain his glee.

Pansy rolled her eyes, remembering how ecstatic the Nott heir had been when she finally learned how to navigate through her home theater. "Are you his mother?"

Theo shushed them again, turning his head back towards the kitchen. "He's pressing them, guys! He's pressing the buttons! Did he get them right? Did he remember the sequence? Shit I hope he gets it right the first time! He has a tendency for self-blame and-"

"Theo, I can hear your bloody rambling! Get the fuck out!"

Pansy and Blaise shook their heads when Draco's angry voice reverberated out of the kitchen.

Theo grumbled as he headed back towards the living room couch, still eying Draco's back from afar. He lifted a fisted hand in the air when he saw him lean back against the counter; the telltale sounds of the microwave reaching his ears.

"Bin, can you hand me the wine?"

Theo snapped his head towards the pair sitting on the couch opposite of him. "Why does she call you Bin again?" He grinned.

Pansy's glare was on him in the next second. "I will stab you in the eye." She warned, shifting her gaze towards the scattered cutlery on the table.

Theo raised his hands up in surrender, chuckling to himself. It was so fun messing with everyone!

"Bait Dabini!"

Pansy elbowed Blaise's arm, cutting off his laughter. "Shut up!"

"What?" He asked, faking an innocent look as he rubbed against his sore bicep.

Pansy stood up to round the couch, putting a safe distance between her and Blaise. "When we were younger, his mother would drop him off our house whenever she needed to go away for… business." She chose to say, instead of mentioning the real reason for Mrs. Zabini's long trips away from home.

Theo's face lit up at the new anecdote. "And? _And_?! _"_

Blaise was off the sofa, trying to get a hold of Pansy as they circled around the upholstered furniture.

"And he would always head to my room in the middle of the night…" Pansy ran much faster, feeling an arm circle around her waist, pulling her still. "…crying because he couldn't sleep without his-" She was cut off by a hand over her mouth.

"Parks, shut the hell up!"

"Aw!" Theo placed a hand over his heart. "Blaise, that's so sweet!"

"Pansy had a crush on Colin Creevey during second year!"

"Fuck you!" Pansy tore off the hand silencing her, feeling her face grow hot at Blaise's revelation. She would never trust him with any of her secrets ever again! "He got a hard on for Fleur when she glanced at him during the-" His hand was over her mouth once again.

"She caught Goyle and Bulstrode having sex in the dungeons and watched!"

Pansy bit Blaise's finger, making him yelp in pain, letting go of her completely. "He walked in on Hagrid and Madame Maxime going at it in one of the classrooms during Christmas break!"

"Bloody hell!" Theo shut his eyes, rubbing through them with the palms of his hands. He was all for gossip and intrigue, but he seriously did _not_ need those images in his head. "Both of you _stop_ _talking_!"

Draco paused by the entrance to the kitchen, confused by the tension in the room. He placed the bowls of popcorn by the table, trying to make sense of what he had missed. He sat down by the couch, surprised to see Pansy's cat deposit itself on his lap, purring in content.

"Oh that's just great!" Pansy flipped her hand towards Draco, glaring at the feline lounging languidly on him. "She likes you, too?" She clicked her tongue. Was the little shit partial to males? "Slut." She whispered under her breath, flinching when the cat turned its head around to hiss at her. Had she been heard? She scoffed, hissing back mockingly at the animal.

"She doesn't like you because you're an intolerable brat!" Came Blaise's jab as he sat down the couch, placing an ice over his bitten finger.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion."

"It wasn't an opinion, it was a fact."

Draco stroked the back of the sleeping cat's head as he listened in on Blaise and Pansy's argument. It was strange to see Blaise act so… immature. It was a side of his that only Pansy seemed to be able to bring out. He sighed. She always did have a tendency to rub people the wrong way. Even someone as patient and levelheaded as Blaise would snap when pitted against some like Pansy throughout most of his life.

Their fight started doubling back to Potter and Weasley now, making Draco sigh in exasperation. They were acting like each other's jealous ex. He blinked.

Back when he and Pansy had been together, her relationship with Blaise had always made him feel… insecure. It was odd – their friendship. No matter how many times Pansy reassured him that they were just friends, almost like family, it still didn't make him feel at ease.

It didn't help either that they were trying to keep their relationship secret to avoid being forced into an engagement before they were ready. He never even met her parents, while Blaise would stay over at her house on a regular occurrence. The Zabinis were longtime family friends to the Parkinsons, which was usually a good basis for a marriage arrangement.

He knew now that his uncertainties were born more out of his inferiority complex, and not out of any of Pansy's actions. She was always honest with him, and never made him feel as if he was being unreasonable. It was only after he'd actually gotten to know Blaise that he finally realized why Pansy was so fond of him. It was also only after the end of his house arrest that he finally understood their dynamic.

Blaise was to Pansy, as Theo was to him.

It was that simple really.

Draco felt an arm loop around him, glancing suspiciously at the grinning Nott heir draped over his shoulder. "What?"

"Aren't you glad we never fight?"

Draco rolled his eyes at the false statement. Sure he and Theo didn't argue often, but when they did, it was always extreme. It was as if they would stop being friends altogether.

"How are things with Granger?"

The sensation of wild curls against his palm made Draco blink. "Fine." He answered quickly, running his fingers over the feline's fur to rid them of the feeling.

Theo leaned down to eye Draco's silent countenance, watching his childhood friend avoid his gaze. Was he feeling… awkward? He hummed. How interesting.

"What?" Came his annoyed tone when he saw Theo grin at him widely.

_"Mr. Darcy began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention. She attracted him more than he liked."_

Draco nudged the hand off his shoulder, glancing at Theo with wide, incredulous eyes. "You took my book?"

Theo blinked, tilting himself back to scrutinize the Malfoy heir's unexpected irritation. "I didn't _take_ it. I saw it on your coffee table." He shrugged. "You were out cold then and I was awake as fuck, so I read it." He narrowed his eyes, smirking at the blonde's incensed expression. "Why so possessive over a muggle book?"

"I'm not." Draco countered instantly, fixing Theo with a pointed gaze. "You know I hate it when you take my things without permission."

"Where'd you get it anyway?" He pushed, knowing exactly who it came from. "It sure as heck wasn't from me."

Draco rolled his eyes at his lack of subtlety. It wouldn't take a genius to know who else could have given him that book. "It was planned." He explained; voice level and matter-of-fact. That was all he allowed himself to say. More details would only elicit more questions from the nosy Nott heir.

Theo had half a mind to probe some more, but he decided against it. He knew he could only imply so much before the Malfoy heir retreated back into his shell. He turned his gaze back to Blaise and Pansy.

"Guys, guys! Stop arguing!" He clapped a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Our fearless leader himself is dating a Gryffindor! Let's not get so critical!"

"Damn it, Theo!" Draco shot him a glare of pure disdain. Just like that, he was dragged back into the squabble once again.

"I still can't believe-"

"You haven't even bloody explained-"

"Fucking hell would you guys-"

"I keep telling you it's not-"

"This is all just a damn-"

"Would you listen to what I have to-"

Theo sighed in content, relishing in the chaos once again.

* * *

"I'm surprised you came."

Draco turned around to glance at Pansy as she stepped out into the veranda of her flat. He nodded awkwardly at her, still unsure of how to talk to her exactly.

The last time he'd seen her was at Blaise's housewarming party when his year in solitary ended. He could tell she was no longer cross with him, but she wasn't exactly warm either. It was understandable. With the way he ended things between them, he was surprised that she even bothered to act civil towards him.

"Congratulations on your second shop." He found himself saying, observing her from the corner of his eyes as she leaned against the railing, looking out into the streets of Paris. A hum was all he got as a reply.

"So…" He cleared his throat. "Potter, huh?"

"I keep saying we're not–" She huffed, facing him head on. "Fine. Let's talk about Granger, then."

"There's nothing to talk about." He looked away.

"Right…" She drawled, rolling her eyes at the lie. "So all those pictures and articles in the news were fake, huh?"

Draco sighed, not really wanting to talk about this with Pansy. It's not like he could tell her it was all a ruse after all.

"I have to admit, I was shocked at first, but it wasn't completely surprising." Pansy sighed, leaning her chin against her palm as she rested her weight on her propped elbows. She had always been a tad bit jealous of the fact that Granger seemed to have Draco's attention back at Hogwarts, even if all he ever did was make fun of her, and look for every opportunity to gloat whenever he bested her at something.

"I had an ongoing bet you see." She paused to grin at Draco who only looked at her curiously. "Who you would end up with – Granger or Potter."

"What?" It took Draco a moment to process what Pansy just admitted to him.

She rolled her eyes at his disbelief. "Oh _please_. They were _all_ you ever talked about. It was always Potter this, Granger that." She shook her head. She knew it was rooted on the fact that he couldn't seem to beat them, but she still couldn't help but feel annoyed that they had his undivided attention. "I honestly wasn't sure who you were more infatuated with!" She teased, earning a glare from the blonde standing right beside her.

"Have you gone mad, Pans?"

She laughed at the expression on his face. "What? I honestly had this hunch you were in love with one of them!"

"How could I be in love with either of them, when I was in love with you?"

Pansy felt her lips part at the earnest look Draco was sending her. She turned away, clenching her teeth to reel in her frustration. How could he say something like that so casually after all the shit he put her through?

_I don't love you, Pans. I never did._

It was so unfair of him to admit that to her now, after all these years. The rational part of her understood why he did the things he did. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. He really didn't have a choice. She knew he ended things between them to protect her. But…

She just couldn't let go of the fact that he made that decision all by himself. Shouldn't she have had a say in it as well? Shouldn't she at least have had the chance to choose?

She wanted to be there for him too. She wanted to help him, support him. She would have gladly taken up the mark just so he wouldn't have had to do it alone. She just…

She just wanted to be by his side.

The fact that she knew he had done it to keep her safe made everything more… agonizing. Until now, she still didn't know if she wanted to thank him or beat him senseless for it.

"I'm sorry."

Pansy closed her eyes at his quiet, sincere apology. That was the last thing she wanted from him. "Shut up, Dray."

"I'm sorry I hurt you." He added, recalling all the times he pretended she didn't exist throughout most of sixth year. All she wanted was a reason – an answer to the question 'why'. But he knew Pansy. If he told her the truth, she would have stayed with him. No doubt about it.

_But… You told me you love me! You said-_

_I lied._

Her hand was wrapped against his shirt, shaking him in anger. "I said shut up!" She could still recall the empty look in his eyes when he called things off just before they boarded the Hogwarts express. He ended things so quickly and without reason that she was left standing on the platform completely stunned, almost missing the train's boarding call.

"I'm _sorry_ , Pans." Draco looked down at her, taking in all the rage she directed at him. He'd still do it all over again if it meant she'd be safe. 

Pansy pushed him away, scowling as she turned her back to him. She fought the tears that threatened to fall down her cheeks, keeping them lodged in her eyes through sheer will. She would _not_ cry. Not in front of him. _Never_ in front of him.

Draco fisted his hands to his sides, fighting down the urge to reach out to her. He knew he was being selfish. He knew it would have been much easier to just sweep everything under the rug and act like nothing happened. But… he didn't want to do that. Not with Pansy. She deserved the truth. An explanation, at the very–

He shook his head. Who was he kidding? He was doing this more for himself than for her. He just…

He just wanted her to know that he loved her. That she was the first person he's ever fallen in love with. Because out of all the lies he'd had to stomach throughout the duration of the war, that was one of the few he would never forgive himself for.

The concept of love had always been transactional for Draco. He had to do something right first – work hard for it, earn it. It wasn't given without reason.

It was never free.

But with Pansy, it was… overflowing. It was offered to him without question, without conditions. With her he could be himself. With her he wasn't judged, ridiculed or berated.

With her he was just… _loved_.

He could tell her about Bellatrix and his Occlumency lessons. He could tell her about all the letters his parents sent him whenever they hear he's been bested at something yet again. He could tell her about his insecurities, his fears, his dreams, and his passions.

At that time in his life, he was sure. He truly believed she was it for him.

But then everything went to shit, so he had to get her away from it all – away from him. He had to at least save her.

"When I was trapped in that hellhole for a whole year, it was the only time I finally got to look at my life, you know? And what a _shitty_ life it's been." He paused, chuckling to himself. "But at least… At least it was just me, you know?" He watched Pansy turn around to finally meet his eyes; her tear-filled gaze fixed on him unwavering.

Draco felt an overwhelming burst of affection in his chest at the sight of her. Pansy was standing right in front of him, alive and well. She was fine, safe – completely untarnished by the war. He smiled.

At least he did one thing right.

"You know… I used to think that being alive was enough." He chuckled at his naivety. "I realized later on that it was actually more… _excruciating_."

He wished for everything to stop, for everyone to just leave him alone. But when he finally got his wish – a year of solitude in his own home, it was much worse than anything he's ever experience. Because then, he couldn't run away from it all.

There was nowhere else to go.

Every memory was right there with him, much louder and vibrant than ever. All the quiet around him amplified them, haunting him at every turn – every breath.

"It's just… I just…" A shuddering sigh slipped through his lips. "I never thought that living could be this… _difficult_."

Pansy finally gave in, closing the distance between them in a few calculated steps. "Dray, listen to me…" She had her hands one each side of his scrunched up face, running her thumbs soothingly through his cheeks, hoping the gesture would ease his pained expression.

It's been more than five years since she first realized she had fallen for him. She was no longer pinning after him like she used to. Those days were definitely over. But she couldn't deny the fact that he still held a special place in her heart. Even after all these years, she just… she could never leave him alone.

She would always… _always_ love him.

"I know I don't exactly understand what you went through, and I know my advice might end up being something completely off the mark." She felt him start to lean into her touch the exact same way he used to. "But please… _please_ don't throw away the life you fought so hard for." She pressed their foreheads together, wishing he could feel her desperation through the gesture.

"For once just… live for _yourself_. There are no more orders, Dray. No one left to tell you what to do." She paused to emphasize her point, gazing into the wide open cinereal orbs looking straight at her. "Dray, you're _free_."

Draco didn't understand why, but the thought of finally being free made him feel more trapped.

* * *

Draco flopped down on the makeshift bed by the side of his room, exhausted after a long night out. He never thought he would actually miss the place, what with all its humidity and poor ventilation. But something about the room he stayed in throughout the entirety of his house arrest felt like home.

The empty cauldrons stayed where he left them, so did the lined up potions ingredients by the shelves. He sighed. He would have to throw most of them out now.

He flinched when he felt clawing against his shirt, rolling his eyes when he caught sight of Romeo and Juliet. "I see you guys are still up." They licked at the hand he used to scratch under their chins. He kept forgetting to transfigure a makeshift fence to keep them on their side of the room.

The two animals began fighting for his affection, nudging at one another, trying to push the other away. "Play nice." He reprimanded, nudging his fingers between their heads to separate them.

When he realized they wouldn't stop, he pulled them up by the back of their necks, depositing Juliet under his chin, while Romeo stayed on his belly. He knew the former like tight corners, while the latter preferred open spaces. He sighed.

"There. Now quiet." He commanded, watching them nuzzle against him as they rolled into a ball. He scoffed at the content expression on their faces, bumping a finger against their heads gently as they slept. They were so unapologetically shameless.

Draco turned his gaze back to the ceiling, sighing at the crazy evening he's had. From Blaise and Pansy getting involved with Weasley and Potter, to Pansy insinuating he had been infatuated with– He shook his head.

Pansy, of all people, should have known exactly what he felt towards two out of three of the Golden Trio. It was… _jealousy_ – jealously brought about by the inferiority complex they nursed in him since his first year at Hogwarts.

They were both raised by muggles, had not known about the wizarding world until prior to their enrollment at Hogwarts, and yet… they _beat_ him. In almost _every single thing_ he'd long since studied from a very young age.

He initially thought that it was some sort of trick. There was no way a half blood and a muggle-born could best him in almost every subject, except for potions. They _had_ to be cheating. There was no other explanation for their exemplary performance.

But… there was nothing.

No underhanded play. No bribery. No deceit.

They were just that… good. Better. So much better than he was.

The dejection he felt at that realization turned into shame, which eventually turned into anger. If he couldn't beat them, then he would _beat_ them. They were easy targets after all. It wasn't hard to try and figure out what to belittle about them.

It was fun. Knocking them down gave him a high that he otherwise never would have gotten through sheer effort. He felt better. Bigger. Superior.

He wasn't so mediocre after all.

It was easy too. Watching his father strut around, calling people out left and right served as the perfect model for him. It wasn't difficult to exude his confidence and wit.

But then the war came, and he finally experienced what it was like to be on the receiving end of all that hate – all that bullying. It was… unbearable. He never thought how much words could hurt, or how much a look could make him feel so small – so insignificant.

Cruelty… was so painful.

Draco rubbed a hand over his face, about to turn to his side before realizing he couldn't. He groaned. Stupid cats.

_Mr. Darcy began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention. She attracted him more than he liked._

He blinked. Once. Twice.

Where the hell did that come from?

He shook his head, rolling his eyes at the image of Theo wagging his brows at him. The Nott heir was a complete idiot if he thought for a second that he was attracted to Granger. He scoffed. As if!

Sure she's definitely changed. She was leaner, her curls more defined and manageable, and her complexion was less pale and more… radiant. Her teeth, since the Yule ball, had become more even – a perfect complement to her smile. Her brown eyes seemed to glow too; specks of gold and copper hidden within. Her voice sounded less snooty as well, and more… smooth, melodious even.

But it wasn't like he found her attractive. He snorted. He just respected her. She was smart, straightforward, and downright honorable. He's never met a person so capable of sticking to her own beliefs and principles like she did. He shook his head. She was unbelievable. In a damn bloody league of her own!

Just yesterday he got a letter from her, asking him about the plans for their sixth date. She wanted to stick to schedule – one date every week – so they could finish their deal just as the year ended. She also followed up on their next Occlumency lesson, informing him of her progress with the small bookshelf he had asked her to complete. He shook his head.

Sometimes he wanted to ask if she ever got tired of being so righteous and hardworking. And not out of spite! He just genuinely wanted to know. Doing the right thing was never easy, so how on earth was she always capable of sticking to it? He sighed.

Draco scratched at his forehead, thoughts drifting to their next date. He'd been so busy with the move back to the manor that he hadn't been able to plan for it at all.

What did Granger like, other than books? Did she have a particular cuisine she enjoyed? She seemed to like wine, recalling how she complimented it back when they were at Slither In. She obviously wasn't a sweet tooth, which was evidenced by her aversion towards his choice of doughnut, and her refusal to order a pastry back when they were in the Muggle world. She also seemed to like the salmon take out he had brought for her when he dropped by her office at St. Mungos.

Judging by the wide selection of tea leaves in her home, he could tell she preferred it over coffee – a small similarity they shared. A picture of her spotless kitchen flashed through his mind. Did she ever cook? The counter was always as flawless and seemingly unused as the rest of her apartment. Did she even stay home at all? He blinked.

Wait, didn't she use to have a cat? He hummed at the sudden realization that he hasn't seen the monstrous fur ball at all in her flat. Did she give it away? He shook his head. That was unlikely. She loved it enough to bring it with her to Hogwarts after all. The only explanation for it was that the animal had passed away.

He knew she liked movies, judging by the level of excitement she tried to contain when they– Memories of that evening made him reshelf that thought for another time. It was too soon to head back to the theater. He sighed.

What kind of date would Granger appreciate then?

He blinked once. Twice.

Wait… Where did that thought come from?

This wasn't about her. This was all just… a part of their agreement. Why should it matter what she liked? All he had to do was choose a place with enough acceptable publicity for both of them.

_Mr. Darcy began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention. She attracted him more than he liked._

What.

The actual.

_Fuck._

Draco bolted up, flinching when the cats started panicking at the sudden movement. He scooped them up in one arm, shushing them in assurance, reeling from the sudden realization that he might…

Nope.

No _bloody_ way.

His strange train of thought was probably brought about by his inebriated state. He nodded. Yeah. That was the only explanation. Because the idea that he somehow… towards Granger. He shook his head. Merlin no! He just found her… pleasant. Yup, that was it. She wasn't as annoying as he thought she was.

She was actually just… human.

He blinked at the image of her hunched against the headboard of her bed. She had look _so_ tired back then. Broken, as much as everyone else unlucky enough to survive the war… Still desperately struggling to come into terms with the consequences of her past.

And he was just trying to help. For the sake of his conscience, of course. As much as he hated to admit it, he owed her; probably more than he was comfortable acknowledging. It wasn't like he was worried about her or anything. He just found an opportunity to even the playing field.

The last thing he wanted was to be indebted to Hermione bloody Granger.

A vision of her standing in front of him, wild bushy hair buzzing with magic, was at the forefront of his mind in the next instant. He tried to blink it away, but it stayed unmoving. Slowly, steadily, other memories of her began floating in his head.

_"Are you occluding? Stop it."_

_"Go on. Why not call me that word? Say it."_

_"Final offer. Four months."_

_"I've used this for years, Malfoy. I'm still alive."_

_"Leave. Now. Before I hex you into the next century!"_

_"Malfoy! There are children here!"_

_"Are you alright? Are you scared of thunderstorms?"_

_"You need help."_

_"Go ahead. Laugh."_

_"Why do you do that? Disappear somewhere?"_

Draco banged his palm against his temple, repeating the gesture a few more times, hoping it would set his head straight. What was wrong with him? Why were his memories of Granger so… volatile? He would always try to keep them locked in the recesses of his mind, but one tiny trigger would always have them swimming in his head.

_The smell of chamomile tea._

_The shifting light of the moon._

_Soft pillows._

_A thick blanket._

_Curls against his skin._

Draco moved out of the bed, depositing the cats back onto their designated area, absentmindedly transfiguring a fence to keep them where they should be. He rushed out of the building, heading straight towards the closest fireplace. He was still in his loungewear but he couldn't care less.

He needed to talk to someone.

* * *

"Blaise!" Draco meant to yell, but his panic made it sound more like a whisper. He was still reeling from the onslaught of his memories of Granger, trying his best to organize his mind as he stalked towards the bedroom. He knew the other Slytherin was probably already asleep, but he needed a sounding board and it was either him or Theo. He scoffed. It wasn't even a question!

Draco pushed the unlocked door open, rushing into the room without bothering with any pleasantries. "Blaise, I need to-" A high pitched scream cut him off, followed by an angry yell.

"Fucking hell, Draco!"

Draco blinked at the scene, watching as Weasley tried to scramble off of Blaise's lap, hiding under the covers. His gaze immediately landed on Blaise's _very_ wet, _very_ erect penis. He turned around quickly, pinching the bridge of his nose to reel in his mortification.

That was _not_ an image he needed etched in his mind!

"Damn it, Blaise!"

"The fuck are you doing here, Draco?!"

"I just wanted to-" He tried to turn around, but Blaise's yelling reminded him to stay put.

"Get the _fuck_ out!"

Draco did not need to be told another time. He was by the floo with a hand full of powder, stepping back into the foyer of Malfoy manor in the next second. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyelids, cursing his bad luck.

Out of all the shit he could have walked in on, it just had to be _that_.

Draco willed the picture out of his mind, lumping it in alongside his memories of the war. He buried it far, far away, hoping to never see it again in this lifetime. He huffed, dropping his head down in frustration. His line of sight landed on the fly of his pants, suddenly annoyed that Blaise was getting some action and yet, here he was, left with only his hand as his company for the past couple of months. He scoffed.

At least now he knew how the Zabini heir managed to reel in the weaselette despite their strong animosity back at Hogwarts. He had a huge–

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose again. He did _not_ just estimate the size of Blaise's bloody fucking cock.

Red tresses suddenly turned brown, straight locks morphing into curls.

Dark skin turned pale, onyx hair shifting into a rare shade of platinum blonde.

_Malfoy… Yes._

He froze at the voice that rang in his ear.

Merlin's fucking-

Nope.

No way in _bloody fucking_ _hell_!

He did not just imagine-

Draco grabbed a handful of powder, chucking it towards the flames in panic. "Nott manor!"

* * *

Draco stepped out of the fireplace, immediately calling for Theo. He was greeted by a tiny elf wearing incredibly short shorts and a shirt that barely reached the middle of its torso. He had half a mind to ask what the hell it was wearing, but he had more pressing matters to attend to.

"Where's Theo?"

"In woom, Mastow Mawfoy. But Mastow Tio-"

Draco was rushing through the stairs two at a time, ignoring the rest of the elf's statement. Theo wasn't exactly the best choice when it came to talking, but he was desperate. He needed to figure out how to make this… whatever the hell this was, just go away.

Draco heard a loud bang from inside Theo's bedroom, followed by a pained groan. He felt the dread in his chest double.

Was Theo messing around with those time turners again? Or was he still experimenting on ways to increase the viability of his portkeys? Perhaps he was developing another protective charm? Merlin only knew how many he'd already created!

"Theo!" He pushed the double doors forcefully, scanning the room in haste. "Are you-"

His mouth fell open at the sight of Cormac McLaggen lying naked on his back, with Luna Lovegood ridding him; Theo kneeling behind her with her hair fisted in his hands.

"What. The _fuck_!" Draco screamed at no one in particular, stomping out of the room red-faced and utterly mortified. He literally just saw Blaise stark bloody naked for crying out loud! He didn't need the image of Theo's snow white ass drilled in his brain too!

He growled out loud as he stomped through the hallways in aggravation. The only silver lining he could have gotten from this was that Theo had his back to him. One damn penis was enough for one night! He groaned at the misdirected thought, correcting it in his head immediately. No penis was enough for one night!

Wait, _what_? That didn't sound right!

Draco ruffled his hair in annoyance. Why the hell didn't Blaise and Theo lock their damn fucking doors?!

"Was that Draco Malfoy?" Cormac asked intrigued.

"Was he supposed to join us?" Luna added, equally interested.

" _Fuck_ no!" Theo screamed, rubbing his hands over his face in annoyance. He hopped off the bed, grabbing his slacks off the floor, struggling to get them on.

Draco just _had_ to choose now of all times to barge in on him unannounced! The blonde git rarely ever dropped by and yet he managed to perfectly align his unplanned visit with one of his… engagements.

"Here I thought he was finally going to play with us." Cormac looked up at Luna, running his fingers through her hair as she peppered his chest with kisses.

"I _still_ vote Blaise." She murmured, leaning her forearms against Cormac to turn her gaze towards Theo's frantic form. "Cho shared the same sentiments." She grinned down at the Gryffindor under her. "You're outvoted."

Cormac rolled his eyes, tracing his gaze through Luna's tresses. "What can I say? I have a thing for blondes."

"If you would _please_ take my friends out of the options." Theo argued, tired of always having to reject their requests. He had absolutely no idea why they were so fascinated with Draco and Blaise! Sure he was adventurous, but there was no way in _hell_ he would ever join an orgy with either of them in it.

"Ah, but isn't Draco with Hermione?" Luna tilted her head to one side, recalling the short run in she had with them in the muggle world. "Though, they were acting pretty strange."

"Strange as in, 'we're humping behind closed doors but we don't want anyone to find out' strange?" Cormac clarified, grinning at the scene he conjured in his head.

Luna hummed, shaking her head in disagreement. "Not really. Just… strange strange." She shrugged, not bothering to elaborate further.

"Strange strange?" Theo raised a brow at her vague claim before pulling his jumper over his head. "I'll be right back." He grumbled, stepping out of the room to go after his childhood friend.

"Willow!" He called out, turning his head towards the elf that popped right beside him as he ran through the hallway. "Take me to Draco." He held his hand out, feeling tiny fingers in his grasp before they apparated to the fireplace.

"Bloody hell!" Came Draco's startled tone, nearly falling backwards when Theo suddenly popped out a few inches away from where he stood. He was just about to reach for some floo powder damn it!

"Draco, what the hell are you doing here?"

"What the hell was that all about?!"

"You mean the sex?" Theo grinned, amused by the scandalized expression on the other Slytherin's face.

"McLaggen and Lovegood?" Draco blinked at him in utter disbelief. "Really Theo?"

"I was jealous!" He shrugged. "I felt left out for not having my own Gryffindor, so I got one of each gender." He added a playful wink at the end.

"Lovegood is Ravenclaw!"

Theo raised a brow at the weak counter. "That's what you choose to focus on?" He scoffed. It was always hilarious to try and unnerve Draco with regards to the topic of sex. He knew the blonde's only ever really been with Pansy, and that the few bouts of one night stands he had after his house arrest had been fairly tame. It was amusing how opposite his true image was from what the rumors back at Hogwarts used to spout. He snorted.

Slytherin sex god his _ass_. The guy's never even humped outside of a bedroom! Let alone engage in any sexual activity that involved more than two people. He chuckled to himself. Draco was every bit the sheltered, pampered rich boy even when it came to fucking. Just like Blaise, he needed soft clean sheets, comfortable temperature, and near perfect ambiance. He rolled his eyes.

"Draco, seriously, what are you doing here? You never come by unless I ask you to."

"It's nothing!" He moved to push Theo to the side, stopping himself before he made contact. He did _not_ want a part of him touching the Nott heir's skin in any way.

Theo flailed when he felt himself levitated to the other end of the room. "How mature!" He called out, folding his arms across his chest, annoyed with himself for not bringing his wand along with him.

The green glow from the fireplace was all he got as a reply.

* * *

Draco flopped onto his bed, groaning as he ran his palms through his face. Not just Blaise, but even Theo was getting fucking laid?! Was he the only one not getting any action? He huffed out loud, rubbing his fingers against his throbbing temples.

He never should have sought them out! Now he was left with an even bigger headache than when he started!

He laid still on the mattress, focusing on emptying his mind and quieting his thoughts. Just when he was finally starting to find some semblance of peace, the sound of Theo's voice boomed from the direction of the door.

"Fifteen minutes! I seriously have to say, Draco. This is a personal record! It's almost as if you really don't want me here!"

Draco glared at the chipper Slytherin who moved towards one of the stools next to the cauldrons. It seemed his wards had been bested, yet again. He growled in annoyance.

"Get the fuck out, Theo!"

"Not until you tell me what that whole stint of yours was about."

"I said it's nothing, didn't I?"

"Draco, I passed up my night of threesome pleasure just to check on you." He rolled his eyes at the mock vomiting he got as a reply. "The least you can do is actually tell me what's gotten up your ass in the last couple of hours." He raised a brow, watching as Draco turned his back to him, not bothering to reply.

Theo sighed at his immaturity, allowing himself to scan the dingy looking potions room the blonde was back to sleeping in. He knew the tiny mattress and sheets were comfortable enough, but what he didn't understand was why Draco refused to transfigure it into a full bed.

"It's _nothing_. Go back to McLaggen and Lovegood." Came his disgusted tone.

Theo rolled his eyes, annoyed by his obstinacy. "Yes, and you're usually so _honest_ , Draco. So I should always believe every word that comes out of your mouth."

When silence was all he got as an answer, he tried to go for a different approach – one that always seemed to get a reaction out of the Malfoy heir. "You don't have to be so jealous, Draco! You know you'll always be my number one!"

Theo hummed at the lack of a response, intrigued by whatever secret the grumbling pureblood was trying to keep from him. "Since I'm not getting anything out of you, it seems like this will be yet another one of our guessing games, yes?"

"Go away."

"Let's see…" Theo ignored the order, folding his arms across his chest. Draco had been fine throughout the evening, so what the hell crawled up his ass and died in the last few hours?

"Is this about Pansy and Potter?" No reply. He nodded to himself. So it wasn't about her. "I highly doubt this has something to do with Blaise and Weasley going at it like rabbits."

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to be reminded of that particular scene.

"You just got the manor back, and when Blaise and I were helping you move, you seem to be on better terms with your mother."

Draco blinked, surprised that the Nott heir actually noticed that.

"There are only so many options for your mood swings, Draco." Theo sighed, growing steadily annoyed at being faced with his silent back. "So my money goes to Granger."

The slight stiffening of the blonde's shoulders made him grin.

" _Oh_ … I see." Theo nodded to himself. "I see. I see. It makes perfect sense." He saw Draco start to tilt his head towards him, before shifting it back to where it had been, trying not to give anything away. "I mean, after everything, you know? And then there was that event. And then that thing. Oh! And that time she… Yup. _Yup_. I totally get it." He grinned, knowing exactly what to say to get a reaction out of him.

"You're in love with her."

"Like _fuck_ I am!"

Theo burst out laughing at the sight of the sprawled Malfoy heir. He had been in such a hurry to bolt up into a sitting position that he ended up getting tangled in his own sheets. He shook his head. He and Blaise were _so_ easy to mess with.

"Spit it out." Theo rolled his eyes when he saw Draco direct a glare at him. "What is it about this time? Did she say something to you again?"

"No."

"Did you finally have hot kinky sex?"

_Malfoy… Yes._

Draco blinked at the sudden image in his head. "No!" He countered, much stronger than necessary.

Theo flinched at the volume of his voice. "O-kay. That sounds like _a lot_ to unpack." He sighed. "So is it sex dreams?"

"Excuse me?" Draco eyed him like a madman.

"Well, your denial was basically an admission." He shrugged offhandedly. "What? She got Malfoy junior standing in attention?" He dropped his gaze towards his hips, jutting his chin out towards his groin for emphasis.

"Bloody… _Theo_!" Draco raised a hand to stop him from saying anything further. He was _not_ going to have this conversation with Theodore fucking Nott.

"Wait…" Theo was full on grinning now. He stood up to pace the room, hands up in the air as he shook his head in disbelief. " _No_!" He stomped a foot against the floor, looking at Draco with wide eyes. He didn't expected his teasing to actually hit the mark. "You…" He pointed an accusatory finger at him. "To Granger?" Draco's avoidance of his gaze was the only answer he needed.

"Bloody fucking hell!" Theo screamed, jumping in the air in excitement. Out of all the juicy gossip he got today, this one _definitely_ took the cake! "Oh Draco… You _bad_ …" He drew out the last word using a singsong tone, eying his childhood best friend lecherously.

"Theo." Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut in frustration. He did not need him to overblow this entire thing. "It's nothing. It's just a small…" He couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence. He didn't even know what the hell it was exactly!

"Admiration? Crush? Attraction? Lust?" Theo tried to fill it in for him; his tone still light and teasing.

"Fact of the matter is…" Draco huffed, crossing his arms on his chest. "It's… some sort of error in judgement."

"Error… In judgement." Theo reiterated, unsure of whether he should burst out laughing, or clap a hand against his shoulder in pity. Did Draco seriously not understand what he was feeling?

"I just need to make it stop."

"Make it… stop?" Theo echoed once again, pursing his lips to reel in his amusement.

"It's not funny!" Draco growled at him, annoyed that he wasn't being taken seriously. "It's most likely the side effect of too much exposure."

Theo rolled his tongue in his mouth, fighting the giggle that wanted to bubble out of his chest. The fact that Draco was trying to make things sound like some sort of research experiment made everything more hilarious. "Yeah! I mean, that's gotta be it, right?"

Draco glared at Theo's shaking form, irked by his sarcasm. "Get out. You're not helping."

"Okay! Okay!" He raised his hands up in mock surrender. "What can I help with then?" He tried his best to temper the mockery in his tone.

"I just need to figure out how to make it go away."

The firm way Draco said it, and the serious expression on his face, made Theo want to coo at him. Who knew the blonde had such an adorable side to him? "That's not how it works, Draco." He shook his head. "You can't pick who your dick stands for."

Draco winced at his choice of words. Did the Nott heir always have to be so crass about things?

"Look." Theo sighed, dropping back down onto the stool, tapping his hands against his lap. "You have three options really." He paused to raise a finger as he outlined each choice. "One, stop everything. Two, continue on with the farce and act your ass off. Three, actually shoot your shot." He watched Draco quiet down, knowing for a fact that the Malfoy heir would no doubt pick the second one. He sighed.

"Why not just date Granger?" He shrugged. "I mean, you both already got the tension down! Well, _sexual_ tension, in your case at least." He wagged his eyebrows, not being able to help himself.

"Stop being stupid." He glared at him in annoyance. "That's not an option."

Theo sighed, opening his mouth to retort, when his gaze landed on a familiar book tucked inside the shelf right across him. He smirked, raising a finger in the air as he moved towards it.

Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation when he noticed the Nott heir pluck out Pride and Prejudice, scanning it hastily in his hands. "Theo, what the hell-"

"Wait for it!" He cut him off, still searching for a passage he hadn't quite committed to memory. "Ah! Here we are!" He cleared his throat, taking in a breath as he raised his nose in the air to mimic the flare and snootiness of the olden days.

_"How could you begin? Said she. I can comprehend your going on charmingly, when you had once made a beginning; but what could set you off in the first place?"_

Theo paused, sending Draco a meaningful glance before he read the next few lines.

_"I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew I had begun."_

"Oh shut the bloody hell up, Theo!"

He raised his free hand up to form his favorite rock and roll sign when he saw Draco stalk towards him to grab the book off his grasp, stuffing it back into the shelf. He chuckled at the grumbling Malfoy heir who flopped back down onto his bed, turning his back to him once again.

Theo sat down the stool, propping his elbow against one of the cauldrons as he eyed the back of his childhood best friend. He shook his head at the hilarity of it all. Who would have thought that things would actually turn out this way? With all the problems Draco's had to deal with in the past couple of years, it was nice to finally see him agonize over something so… normal. He grinned.

_"Mr. Darcy began to feel the danger of paying Elizabeth too much attention. She attracted him–"_

"Just shut the fuck up, Theo!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand we're back a bit to the rom-com part of this story!
> 
> It's been a long wait so to those who are still here (who initially expected this would be a lighthearted fake/pretend relationship story :p) give yourselves a pat on the back for braving through all that angst and crap ^^ (that doesn't mean it's over though lol) 
> 
> So yeah! That's pretty much it! I had so much fun writing this chapter ^^
> 
> A kudos and comment would be highly appreciated :)


	20. Blocking

"I said, I got it."

"Just stay where you are. You might end up ruining it."

"I can handle a damn warming spell."

"I just want to make sure-"

"What are you guys doing?" Hermione blinked at the scene before her, watching Harry and Ginny argue with each other while they stood in her kitchen. Her eyes traveled from one food article to another on the littered table; her mind unable to process what was happening exactly. Getting back from a 36-hour shift from the hospital made it difficult to get her brain to function properly.

"Oh great, now she's here and we haven't even set up!" Ginny huffed, throwing her hands up in the air.

"Well it took you forever to get back with the take away." Harry pointed out, earning a glare from the redhead.

Hermione stood by the dining table, blinking at them incredulously. She never thought she would ever see them in the same room, arguing like they always used to whenever food was involved. "What is all this?"

"We just wanted to surprise you." Ginny grumbled. "You know? Since we haven't exactly gotten together in a long time."

Hermione felt her gaze soften as she eyed the two other Gryffindors in her flat. It probably wasn't easy for them to work together after everything that's happened, but to see them make this much of an effort for her… she had no words.

"I… Thank you."

They were on her side in an instant, enveloping her in a hug.

"Don't cry." Came Harry's soothing tone.

Hermione blinked, only then realizing a few tears were streaming down her face. "Oh, sorry! I didn't… I didn't notice!" She grabbed the tissue Ginny handed her, feeling Harry's arm around her shoulder direct her towards one of the chairs.

"Okay, enough waterworks! Time to eat!" Ginny rubbed her hands together, flopping onto the chair right beside Hermione, but not before bumping against the older woman's shoulders in a silent gesture of comfort.

"Just let me get all the warming charms set up." Harry called out, still not trusting Ginny with anything in relation to cooking. He couldn't fathom why, but despite how incredible she was when it came to Quidditch and hexes, she was absolute _shit_ at anything culinary related.

"Things would have gone quicker if you just let me do some of them."

"Yes, and risk arson. Sounds like a plan."

Hermione watched them bicker over the food set-up, secretly thankful for having them back in her life again. After everything that's happened, she never thought any of this could be possible.

Dinner went by smoothly, much to Hermione's surprise. From Ginny's stories about Quidditch, to Harry's animated description of Paris… It was like _nothing_ had changed, except everything _had_. How was this real? After every confrontation, every misunderstanding, just… every little thing.

They were here, with her. Still friends, still together.

Hermione pursed her lips, fighting back the tears welling up in her eyes. For the first time in a very long time, she felt like she was… winning. Against life. Against fate, if such a thing was even real. It was as if the gods finally decided to give her a break.

She blinked at the packet of tissues Ginny slid to her side of the table without disengaging from the conversation she was having with Harry. She threw the younger witch a small nod, thankful for the gesture and for not probing further into whatever emotional turmoil she was going through.

"So… How long do you plan on being unemployed?" Ginny popped a couple of nuts in her mouth, washing them down with a generous gulp of red wine.

"Uh…" Harry scratched the back of his neck, a bit sheepish at admitting that he'd just taken a new one not too long ago.

"Don't get me wrong, I think the fact that you're finally taking it easy is a good thing."

"Actually… I'm going to be a professor at Hogwarts this coming semester."

"What?! No shit!"

Harry winced at the jab the redhead threw against his shoulder. No matter how many times she did that, he could never get used to it.

"Let me guess, Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Hermione raised an amused brow, chuckling to herself when all she got as a response was a small nod from the Golden Boy. He could be so predictable sometimes.

"Do you think I could do it?"

Ginny and Hermione exchanged looks, scoffing at the unexpected question.

"Are you fishing for compliments?" Ginny crossed her arms against her chest.

"Harry, your credentials are more than enough." Hermione placed a hand over his, squeezing it lightly in assurance. "If anything, I think you're overqualified."

"Yeah, but…" Harry shrugged, pushing the fingers of his free hand against his glasses. "Teaching is an entirely different field. I could suck at it for all we know."

"Well, there's only one way to find out." Ginny shrugged, picking up random pieces of cheese from the grazing board. "I mean, if you're bad it, all you're gonna end up doing is disappointing the entire future generation, and possibly ruining their hero worship of you." She shrugged again, grinning at the glare Harry sent her. "Which is why you should never meet your idols."

"Not helping, Gin."

"Harry, you'll do fine." Hermione chuckled at their squabbling. "Just relax. You've got a couple more months to prepare. Worrying too much about it now will get you nowhere."

"Yeah… I guess you're right." Harry sighed, offering Hermione a grateful look. "How are you, by the way?"

"I…" Hermione blinked at the unexpected turn of the conversation, only now realizing that it had been awhile since she's last been asked that question. "I'm doing better. Much better."

"How's work?" Ginny asked with a mouthful of cheese. "Still living in your office?" A playful glare was all she got as a response. "What? All you use your apartment for is sleeping. And storing. It's basically a glorified storage facility." She snorted. Her kitchen was empty, every room in the house looked like something from an interior design ad, and the only place with an indication of it actually being lived in was her bedroom.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm here most weekends and after work, thank you very much."

"How's your research?"

Hermione turned her gaze towards Harry, noticing the slight tensing of his shoulders, and the discomfort evident on his face.

"You went in my room." It wasn't a question, just a clearly stated fact.

Harry raised his hands up in surrender, blurting out his excuse in the next second. "Ginny made me!"

"What?! No, I didn't!"

"You made me get your scarf in her room while you headed for the bathroom!"

"I _did_ leave my scarf on her bed! I didn't ask you look at the gazillion pieces of paper on her wall!"

"You knew I would see them that's why you made me go! Why else would you leave it on her bed and not against the coat rack by the front door?!"

" _Stop_." Hermione heaved out a sigh, shifting her gaze from one wide-eyed Gryffindor to another. "It's fine. It's not like I'm trying to keep it a secret." She sighed again, picking up her fork to push at the food on her plate. "It's… It's still slow, but there's actual progress this time around. Especially since I have the funds to explore every theory I can think of."

"Funds provided by Malfoy, of course." Ginny added, an unasked question lingering in the air.

"And… How are things? With you and Malfoy?" Harry tried to focus on cutting the steak on his plate, attempting to sound nonchalant about the whole thing.

Hermione folded her arms across her chest, dropping her gaze down to contemplate her answer. How were things between them? If she had to label it with a word, it would be… _weird_. Malfoy was… he was just so weird!

"There's nothing to be alarmed about, if that's what you both want to know."

"Harry told me your arrangement ends the moment he gets his manor back. And he did." Ginny paused to emphasize her point. "So, what happens now?"

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but found herself unable to. She clicked her tongue.

Harry nodded in understanding. "Nondisclosure clause."

Hermione raised a hand towards them both, asking them to wait as she tried to figure out a way to let them know more. She summoned the calendar from the living room, pointing at it meaningfully.

Harry and Ginny narrowed their eyes, deep thought.

"The contract lasts for the rest of this month?"

Hermione shook her head, scanning through the pages of the calendar quickly.

"The rest of the year?"

She shook her head again, pointing a finger on the square that housed the date for the day.

"Today's the end of it?"

She shook her head a couple more times, pointing at the numbers on the calendar incessantly.

"Why are you pointing at the dates?" Ginny flinched when Hermione waved the calendar right at her. "What? What did I say?!"

"Dates?" Harry reiterated, earning him enthusiastic nods. "You mean you have a certain number of dates left?"

Hermione pressed her hands together in a gesture of gratitude.

"How many?" Ginny pressed on, making Hermione pick out a couple of grapes, placing it onto her plate to answer her question.

"Eleven?" Harry counted. "You've got eleven dates left?"

"I'm guessing it's a once a week kind of thing?" Ginny's voice trailed off in uncertainty.

Hermione nodded at both of them, closing her eyes to revel in her success. It was freeing to be able to talk about it with other people, even if it meant she would have to act like an idiot in the process.

"I'm guessing you have a date with lover boy this weekend?"

Hermione scrunched her face up in disgust at Ginny's choice of words. "This weekend." She found herself able to talk again.

"Where?"

Hermione turned towards Harry, eying her with a gaze that told her he would be meddling in her affairs from now on. "Somewhere." She opted to answer vaguely.

"Hermione-"

"Harry, I'll be fine." She cut him off. "Having you tailing us throughout the day won't exactly bode well with what we're trying to achieve."

Harry snorted at this. "I wasn't planning on tailing you."

"Sure you weren't." Hermione rolled her eyes. She would have to watch out for him more these coming weeks. With all the free time he had, she knew he wouldn't just sit around and do nothing.

"To be perfectly honest, I'm not all for this whole Malfoy thing, but I understand why you went for it." Ginny began, taking a quick sip out of her wine glass. "Just be careful."

"I will."

"And don't forget that we're here."

Hermione blinked at the younger witch eying her with a resolve that made it impossible for her to argue.

"We're _here_ , Hermione. If, at any point, you need help, or even just someone to talk to, call us."

Hermione felt a hand squeeze against her own, turning her head to meet warm green eyes gazing at her fondly.

"We're here." Harry echoed, smiling at her reassuringly.

Hermione nodded at both of them, unable to find the words to express her gratitude.

"Uh-oh, she's gonna cry again!"

"Do you always have to ruin the moment, Gin?"

Hermione chuckled at their bickering, swiping a finger under her eyes to stop the tears from trickling down her cheeks. "Thank you, both of you."

* * *

Blaise felt his eye twitch, nearing the end of his patience with all the silence. He was sitting on a high stool, arms crossed, and gaze fixed on the annoying blonde who had the audacity to pretend that nothing was amiss. He wanted to kick the stupid cauldron standing in between the two of them so he could slap some sense into the entitled pureblood sitting right across him.

"Draco."

"Hm?"

The innocent look the Malfoy heir sent him made him want to shake him senseless. "Explain."

"Explain what?"

"Last night. In my room." Blaise clarified, taking a deep breath to calm himself for added measure.

"Ah. Well… About that…" Draco smoothed a hand over his silk pajama shirt, looking at anywhere else but Blaise. "My deepest apologies."

"I'm not looking for an apology, Draco." Blaise rolled his eyes. He was pretty sure he didn't mean it anyway. "What I want is an explanation. You _never_ head over to my flat." Which was precisely why he never bothered to close his floo connection to the Malfoy manor. He'd kept it open since Draco's house arrest to make himself easily accessible for Theo whenever he needed help with the unstable blonde. "So what changed?"

"I had a matter I wanted to discuss." Draco began, trying his best to keep things vague and offhanded. "But I managed to resolve it myself, so no need to concern yourself with it."

"Liar."

Blaise's firm yet quiet tone made Draco finally look at him. The expression on Blaise's face told him the taller man wasn't cross with him, but was soon going to be if he kept beating around the bush.

"It's nothing, Blaise. I'm serious."

"Theo thinks otherwise."

Draco blinked once. Twice. _Fuck_ Theo and his _fucking_ meddling ways! "What the hell did he say to you?!" A slow, menacing smirk was all he got as a reply.

"Nothing. But your reaction told me everything."

Draco took a moment to curse himself a thousand times over. He forgot for a second that he was dealing with another Slytherin.

"Draco, I've snuffed the urge to strangle you for invading my privacy, causing me an entire night of pleasure, just so I can ask you what the hell is wrong. The least you can do is give me an honest answer."

"Weasley left?"

"Would you be in the mood to fuck after something like that?"

Draco swallowed awkwardly. No, he most certainly would not. Come to think of it, he also managed to successfully cockblock Theo last night as well. He hummed to himself, feeling strangely satisfied that neither of them got laid.

Blaise narrowed his eyes at the unapologetic look on the Malfoy heir's face. He could at least _try_ not to look so unbothered. He scoffed. Ever since Theo threatened he would create a third portkey for himself, it had been stuck on the back of his head. The image of the Nott heir walking in on him and Weasley was the main reason why he decided to move their activities to his flat. He had no idea the decision would leave him in the same damn predicament.

"Is this about Pansy?" The odd look Draco gave him told him otherwise. So it wasn't about her. His reaction at the mention of Theo's name told him it wasn't about him, but something he was willing to consult the Nott heir with. Based on the few times he's seen Draco with Narcissa, he could tell it didn't concern her either. It's been almost two months since his encounter with Lucius, so he was certain it didn't have anything to do with the Malfoy patriarch. He sighed. There were only so many people who could unnerve the seemingly infallible Malfoy heir so easily.

"Granger." The surreptitious way Draco tried to shift back told Blaise everything he needed to know. "What happened this time?"

"What makes you so sure it's about her?"

Blaise raised a brow at the challenging look the blonde was sending him. Draco was a pretty good liar, but so was he. Everyone had a tell. Draco's was the slightest way he would tilt himself away from his interrogator. It was hard to catch, but even harder to miss once you knew what to look for.

"Did she say something?"

"It's _not_ about her."

"Do something?"

"I just said-"

"Does she want out of the arrangement?"

"No, she-"

"Did she tell on you?"

"You know that's impossi-"

"Did she fall for you?"

"Wha-No! Blaise, what the fuck-"

"Did you?"

Draco blinked at the unexpected question. "Huh?" A hum was all he got as a reply.

Blaise would be lying if he said he wasn't caught off guard. He added the question based on a small suspicion, but he didn't exactly think he would be right. He didn't expect the inquiry to completely off balance the blonde either. "Interesting."

"Whatever conclusion it is that you think you've drawn, I'm telling you, you're wrong."

"And what conclusion is that exactly?"

Draco eyed Blaise in silence, not wanting to say another word further. If Theo was an expert at sarcastic comebacks, Blaise was unfairly talented at wordplay. He was annoyingly good at asking leading questions. He fought the urge to groan. Why did he have to be stuck with Slytherins as friends? Where's a good-natured Hufflepuff when you need one?

"When did it start?"

"What do you mean when did it start?"

Blaise chose not to expand further, simply bidding his time in wait for an answer.

"Nothing started."

Blaise hummed again, much to Draco's annoyance. So he was in denial? How amusing. "You realized it just recently?"

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"I see. So you've at least acknowledged it."

Draco folded his arms on his chest, throwing the other man a look of boredom. "You're making absolutely no sense, Blaise."

"But you refuse to admit it."

"Admit _what_ exactly?"

"Now you're trying to figure out a way to make it stop."

Draco blinked, taken aback by Blaise's words, utterly speechless. How on earth did he…? "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Blaise raised a brow at the commendable way Draco tried to salvage his loss of composure. "Denying makes things worse."

"I'm not denying anything!"

"It only makes things grow beyond your control."

" _Everything_ is under control."

"Not from where I see it."

Draco slammed a frustrated hand against the edge of the cauldron. "Damn it I don't like Granger!"

"Oh… Were we talking about Granger?"

Draco felt the color on his face drain the moment his gaze landed on the small smirk on Blaise's face. The little _shit_!

Blaise stayed silent, keeping his eyes on the Malfoy heir, completely unaffected by the death glare he was sending him. Draco was usually very good at keeping his cool, so if he wanted answers from him, it was best done the moment he woke up from his slumber. The blonde was _not_ a morning person, and was easy to rile up in the mornings. He smirked. He had Theo to thank for that brilliant piece of information.

"What are you going to do now?" Blaise watched the stony expression on Draco's face give way as he ran a hand through his bed hair.

"Nothing." Draco sighed. There was no point in trying to keep up appearances now. He had every intention of consulting Blaise about it in the first place. He just… After all of Theo's teasing last night, he just wasn't ready to admit it out loud.

"Nothing?"

" _Nothing_." Draco threw Blaise a look of resolve. "It'll pass."

Blaise nodded nonchalantly. "Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"Regardless, it doesn't change anything. We go on with the dates, finish the conditions of the contract, then go our separate ways." Draco nodded to himself, feeling more at ease now that he's gotten everything out in the open. It didn't really matter what he thought of Granger. What they had was a business partnership. All he had to do was stick to the conditions of the contract and the provisions required of him, and there would be no issue.

"How did you guess?" Draco narrowed his eyes, scanning Blaise with suspicion.

"Guess what?"

"About Granger."

Blaise raised an amused eyebrow, not missing the way the blonde still refused to say it out loud. The image of an annoying, headstrong redhead flashed in his mind, making him sigh in resignation.

"Let's just say I have experience in that department."

* * *

"Potter, what am I looking at?"

"That's a roller coaster."

Pansy closed her eyes, fighting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Yes, yes. I can _read_ , Potter. It's written right _there_." She glanced at the tiny open cars twisting, flipping and turning on flimsy pieces of steel. "What I'm asking is, _what_ am I looking at?"

Harry splayed his palms out towards the amusement park ride, grinning widely as screams filled the air. "You're looking at our goal."

" _Excuse me_?"

"We're riding that." He shrugged, pursing his lips to hold in the roar of laughter threatening to spill out of his chest. Seeing Pansy Parkinson with her eyes wide, mouth agape, completely and utterly speechless was something he never thought he would witness. "Scared of heights?" His teasing remark earned him a glare.

"I'll have you know that I got an O in flying." Pansy crossed her arms on her chest, raising a brow at the grinning Gryffindor in annoyance. "I don't have a problem with heights on a broom I can control freely and easily with my magic. My issue is with those flimsy metal objects that screech and wobble…" She paused to point at the old man in a booth on the bottom of the ride, nodding his head off sleepily. "…controlled by someone who's ancient enough to be my great grandfather!"

Harry rolled his tongue in his mouth, finding it more and more difficult to reel in his amusement. "So you're scared-"

"I just said I'm not!"

"-of things muggles aren't." He finished.

Pansy narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh, Potter! You must have me mistaken for one of your _idiotic_ Gryffindor lackeys. This isn't fear. It's _rationality_. Maybe you've heard of it? Just because I don't feel like throwing caution to the wind and risking my life on that… that… _death_ _contraption_ … doesn't mean I'm scared! It's idiotic, pointless and completely unnatural!"

"So is flying on a broom." Harry shrugged.

"It is _not_!"

"Well, you disagree because that's what you know, and what you have known _all_ your life. But for muggles, this is one of the ways they can experience flying. What I'm asking you to do now is the same as handing a muggle a broom and asking him to fly." He paused, watching a begrudging look of understanding grace Pansy's features. "They're _both_ flying. The method just varies."

He watched Pansy let out a frustrated sigh, shifting her gaze between him and the roller coaster. "I won't force you to do anything, Parkinson. But remember, you said you were willing to try."

Pansy glared at him one more time before turning her gaze back onto the gigantic ride, regretting her decision to take him up on his offer to educate her more about the muggle world. She eyed the worn down metal rails, the trembling carts, the screeching wheels, the strange padded device that kept muggles from falling off to their death…

"I… I _can't_."

"That's okay."

"What?" Pansy eyed him incredulously. After all the time he spent trying to sell this place to her, he was just going to give up that easily? "I thought you said that was our goal for today!"

"I said it's our goal, but it doesn't have to be _today_." Harry grinned, shrugging his shoulders sheepishly. "I just showed you the most daunting ride in this entire park so that the others won't look as imposing."

Pansy pursed her lips at the clever move. She could not believe she was outsmarted by a fucking Gryffindor! She wanted to stab his eye with the tip of her eye liner _so bad_.

"We can start with that."

Pansy narrowed her eyes at the small moving… were they wagons? They had a long line on their backs connecting them to the mesh ceiling, emitting strange sparks that looked like tiny fireworks. "What the hell are those?"

"Bump cars."

Pansy watched the people riding tiny vehicles knocking against each other, laughing at the entire thing. "Let me guess." She finally pinched the bridge of her nose. "You ride a car… and you _bump_ each other."

"Pretty much." Harry grinned, shrugging at the entire thing once again as he pocketed his hands. He didn't understand why, but for some reason, he was starting to get used to Parkinson's dry humor. If only she wasn't so mean, she could actually be pretty funny.

Pansy took a deep breath, reeling in the insult itching out of her mouth. Maybe… Maybe this was like… Quidditch. Yes, like Quidditch. But instead of ramming into each other on brooms, they bump onto the padded bottom of plastic cars. She nodded. Okay. That made some bit of… sense.

Pansy took in another deep breath, tilting her head towards the attraction. "Fine. Bump cars it is."

* * *

Hermione sighed out loud as she eyed the wide expanse of the frozen lake. When she received a letter from Malfoy last night informing her that they would be meeting at the furthest park from Hogsmeade, it didn't make any sense. No one really ventured this far out in the cold, and it's not like there was anything they could do here.

So what on earth was Malfoy planning?

The news about his harassment at the Quidditch match, and her stepping in for him had been the turning point of everything. It moved the masses so much that a lot of them started crying out for the current administration to leave the heir and his family alone. There had been widespread criticism towards the ministry for their unfair treatment of pureblood families after the war. The Malfoys had already been tried and convicted. Coming after them now was just plain bullying. There was no need for further persecution. She sighed.

If she ever doubted the effect of their fake relationship, she didn't anymore.

Hermione rubbed her hands together, casting a warming charm on herself in the process. She was decked in fleece from head to toe, but she could still feel the cold. The sun had finally risen, making the blanket of snow glisten under its rays, but it did nothing to quell the chill in the air.

The pop of apparition that reached her ears made her sigh out loud. "Took you long enough." She turned around to face him. "Why are we meeting out… here?" She blinked at the sight of him in uncharacteristic casual clothes, but what really caught her eye were the items he clutched in each hand.

"Why do you have brooms?"

Draco blinked at her, unsure why she felt the need to ask such an obvious question. "Why else would I have brooms, Granger?"

Hermione took one long look at him, before threading her arms together against her chest. "No."

Draco felt his eyebrows roll all the way up his forehead. "No?" He scoffed. "You haven't even heard what I have to say."

"Fine." She eyed him from head to toe patronizingly. "Humor me."

"You've gotten the basics of memory organization down pat." He began, jutting his chin towards her head. "Since we've got a limited amount of time, we're moving onto the next lesson for now."

Hermione blinked, taken aback by his answer. She didn't think for a second that any of this had something to do with their lessons in Occlumency. In fact, if she would be completely honest with herself, she expected him to forget about his offer entirely. "How exactly does a lesson in Occlumency involve flying?"

"You hate flying. Since you're scared of heights. And you suck at it."

The offhanded way he said it made her nerves bristle in annoyance. She opened her mouth to argue but he was quick to cut her off.

"So today's lesson requires you to fly without showing any ounce emotion on your face." Draco paused to raise a brow at the glare she was throwing his way. "The goal is blocking. Keeping things hidden. Invisible." He walked towards her, handing over a Nimbus 2001. When she made no move to take it, he pushed it in front of her, making her reach for it instinctively. "You need to work on your face, Granger. You're an open book."

"I am _not_." She challenged, glaring at him undeterred.

"When you're in your office, surrounded by elements within your calculations, you're not." He paused to wave a hand towards their surroundings before eying the broom she held a foot away from her body. "But when placed in a situation you have absolutely no control over… you crumble."

"I do not-"

"We can argue about this all day, Granger." He shrugged nonchalantly, letting out a long tired sigh. "But this is how I chose to teach you. If you don't like it, we can call off the entire thing, and just focus on finishing the rest of the agreed upon dates."

"No."

Draco blinked at her determination, half impressed that she was actually willing to go through with it, and half annoyed that he didn't get her to back down. He knew it was wishful thinking anyway. Hermione Granger never backed down on anything.

Hermione took a deep breath in, facing Malfoy head on. "How exactly am I supposed to block my emotions?"

"Same principle as memory organization. You visualize it, then store it somewhere safe. You can't use your bookshelf, by the way. The process of blocking emotions and thoughts you feel at the moment is much more difficult than sorting through old memories. You need something more secure."

"Then what am I supposed to do?"

"You create another place for them, Granger. Away from your bookshelf. Away from the forefront of your mind."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, trying to make sense of everything. "What do you use?" She watched him blink at her.

"Huh?"

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, as if her question concerned something as simple as the weather. "What does yours look like? I need an example." A few seconds of silence was all she got, making her narrow her eyes. It was a practical question. So why wouldn't he just answer?

"Let's take into consideration your earlier choice. A library."

Hermione raised a brow, not believing the obvious way he deflected the question she directed right at him.

"Say your memories are in the books sorted in shelves. The unwanted ones are in the restricted area. What else is in the library that you can use to store things? Something that could keep them away from the public eye?"

"Malfoy, just give me an example."

"I _am_."

Hermione glared at the warning look she received for pushing things further. She huffed, deciding to let things go for now. She turned her gaze down, trying to think of an answer to his question.

"It needs to be something you can close off. Something with a mechanism that can keep others away. Or perhaps-"

"A trunk." The small smile she got from him as an approval made her blink. It was gone in an instant, making her second guess the entire thing.

"Good. That could work. I'll leave the design up to you." Draco nodded. "Let's keep things consistent for now. Visualize your thoughts and emotions into books. How you sort them and construct them is entirely up to you. A word of warning though." He paused, trying to think of the right words to explain his point. "Occluding on the spot is challenging. The stronger the emotion, the louder the thought, the more difficult it is to snuff. Don't be surprised if they don't follow your command, or if they fly out of your control. Just keep at it. Occlumency is a skill. All it needs is practice."

Hermione blinked, not quite sure how to respond. Was Malfoy seriously trying to… comfort her? She shook her head. That couldn't be. Perhaps he was just trying to take on the role of professor seriously; something he was surprisingly good at. But it's not like she would ever admit that out loud, or say it to his face.

"Shall we?" Draco motioned a hand towards the broom in her grasp, watching her tighten her hold on the stick.

"I thought this was supposed to be our sixth date?"

He eyed the suspicious look she was sending his way oddly. "It is."

"Then why does it seem like…" She stopped herself to reword her question. It would be stupid to think that Malfoy was doing any of this for her. There had to be something in it for him as well. "Doesn't this set up put you at a disadvantage? No one is here to see any of this."

Draco raised a brow at her concern. "If you think I'm doing this without any benefit, then you obviously don't know me very well." He smirked. "It wouldn't be an overstatement to say that everything we do today will be carefully documented."

Hermione clenched her teeth. "You didn't think it was wise to give me a heads up?"

He looked at her oddly once again. "I didn't think it would surprise you. Why else do you think everything we've done so far had been caught on camera?"

Hermione blinked at the question. Everything made so much more sense now. "You leak our dates to the media." A curt nod was all she got as a reply. "How?"

"I have my ways."

"Malfoy-"

"It's a minor detail, Granger." Draco sighed out loud at the glare he received.

"You should have told me from the beginning."

"I assumed you were smart enough to find out."

Hermione folded her arms against her chest at the backhanded compliment. "Is there anything _else_ I need to know?"

_Did she fall for you?_

_Wha-No! Blaise, what the fuck-_

_Did you?_

Draco shook his head. "No. None at the moment." He cleared his throat. "Can we finally begin? Or are we waiting for the sun to set?"

"Fine."

Draco placed his Firebolt onto the snow gently, urging her to do the same.

"Seriously?"

"Granger, how do you expect yourself to form a bond with a broom without getting through this right of passage?"

"Isn't this _your_ broom? Wouldn't it be difficult for me to-"

"That's not mine. We have a couple in the manor. That one hasn't been used."

Hermione eyed the Nimbus 2001 in her hand, just now noticing that it was, in fact, fairly new. She snorted. Of course the Malfoys had a stock of brand new, completely unused, high class brooms just lying around their property.

"Now if you don't mind, Granger, I'd like to finish this lesson during this century?" Draco felt his mouth fall open as he watched her chuck the broom offhandedly onto the snow.

Hermione raised a brow at his sputtering form, confused by his sudden annoyance. "What?"

"Grang-" He let out a long, slow breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Do I seriously have to teach you the basics of flying, too? Didn't you take the damn class?"

"I did." She folded her arms across her chest defensively.

"Let me guess, you got an O for acing the written tests, and completing every possible extra credit assignment you could find for the class." The prickly expression on her face told him everything. "Did you even _fly_ , Granger?"

"Of course I did!"

"If you did, you'd know that you aren't supposed to throw your broom away like some rotten apple!"

She raised a brow at the weird analogy. "It's a _broom_ , Malfoy. An inanimate object. I'm sure it's fine." The scandalized look he threw at her almost made her want to laugh.

"Would you chuck your wand around like that? No, of course not! It's not just an object, Granger. It's a _partner_. It's one you stick with throughout your life. It chooses you, and the bond you form develops based on how you treat it."

This time Hermione really couldn't stop the soft giggle that escaped her throat. "Oh, I'm sorry, Malfoy. Did I hurt the broom's feelings? Should I apologize?" The glare she got as a response only made her laugh louder. She knew Malfoy loved Quidditch, but to hear him talk so passionately about bonding with his _broom_ … she snorted. Did he even hear himself?

"Think you're funny, Granger?" The offhanded shrug he got as a reply irked him further. He took a deep breath in, letting out a long sigh before reaching a hand over his Firebolt, wordlessly urging it to move. He smirked the moment it landed perfectly in his palm. He jutted his chin at her, motioning for her to do the same. It was his turn to snort when it made no move towards her whatsoever.

Hermione bent down in frustration, snatching the broom in her hand. Why did they have to do that ridiculous ritual when they could just grab the damn stick?

"Very smooth, Granger. You really showed that broom who's boss."

Hermione glared at him in annoyance. "I thought you said a broom was a life partner, Malfoy. What happened to your old one? The model not flashy enough anymore?"

"It… broke."

Hermione blinked, not at all expecting his reply. She thought he would gloat, or mention something about Malfoys deserving the best, and being able to afford the best. Her gaze was glued on the expression on his face, surprised to see him look so… young. He was like a kid who lost his favorite toy, and didn't know what to do to get it back. It was an expression that looked so foreign on him that it left her speechless.

"Let's get started, Granger." Draco cleared his throat, walking off towards the lake without warning.

Hermione opened her mouth, catching herself just before the words slipped out of her lips. Why did she feel like apologizing? It was a valid question after that lecture he gave her. Besides, it was just a broom.

"All you need to do, is fly over the lake from one end to another." Draco pointed towards the goal, hoping onto his broom, lifting himself up a few feet off the ground. "You don't need to fly too high, or too fast. As long as your feet can't touch the ground, it's fine."

Hermione turned to look at him in surprise. He was actually being… reasonable. She expected him to make her twirl in circles, sprint as fast as the speed of sound, or maybe even fly upside down, but this was actually… everything made sense.

"Remember, not a single ounce of emotion. You'll reset every time I see even the slightest bit of expression on your face."

Hermione took a moment to estimate the distance she needed to travel. The lake wasn't huge. At a leisurely pace, she could probably reach the end in about thirty seconds or less. She nodded to herself, straddling the broom in her hand with newfound confidence. She could do this. She could-

"What are you doing?"

Draco raised a brow at her, arms folded on his chest while he kept himself balanced with just his legs. "What?"

Hermione eyed him from head to toe, seeing him hovering a few feet in front of her with the tail end of his broom facing the opposite end of the lake. "Why are you facing me?"

"How else am I supposed to check your occlusion?"

Hermione swallowed down her discomfort. Was he _seriously_ going to fly alongside her, _staring_ at her the entire time? "Can't you do it from a distance?"

"I won't be able to see that well."

"Then how about from the side?"

"Your bushy hair leaves a lot to the imagination."

Hermione huffed at the unnecessary jab. "This is _ridiculous_."

Draco rolled his tongue in his mouth to fight a smirk that would no doubt annoy the already incensed Gryffindor further. "We haven't even started and you're already failing."

"How the hell am I supposed to focus if you're judgmental face is right in front of me, spouting insults every second?"

"Fine." He raised his right hand up in the air in a gesture of amity. "I won't say a word."

Hermione's discomfort didn't wean at his assurance. So he meant to say that they would be flying in silence with him boring holes into her skull the entire time? That was even more disconcerting!

"Stop complaining." Draco clicked his tongue, floating himself off further into the ice. "The fact that you're already getting this pissed is good practice."

Hermione let out a frustrated sigh, but allowed herself to lift off a few inches-

"Again."

"What?"

"Your face was all scrunched up. You're barely even a foot off the ground. Again."

Hermione looked at him in disbelief. Was that seriously the starting point? She thought it would begin the moment she was in the air!

"Granger. Again."

She huffed at the commanding tone of his voice, annoyed at having to follow his instructions. She took a deep breath in, steeling herself for what was to come. He had a point. This was good practice. If she could reel in the fact that she wanted to slap the broom across his face, then that was a victory for her Occlumency.

* * *

"Again."

Hermione turned around to pinch the bridge her nose, trying her best to snuff out the growing aggravation she felt. They've been at it for at least an hour now, yet she hasn't even made it past the first step – getting her broom off the ground.

"What was it this time?" She turned around, demanding yet another explanation from him.

"Your jaw clenched."

"My jaw clenched?" She eyed him incredulously.

"Blank, Granger. Your face needs to be blank."

"It is!"

Draco let out a long sigh. He knew this whole ordeal would be a challenge on his sanity, but he would take arguing with her any day over sitting at a candlelit dinner just… talking. He shook his head. "You're _not_ occluding, Granger. You're just trying to school the expression on your face which is, _spoiler alert_ , not working in the slightest."

Hermione felt a bit of her frustration thaw at the sound of Draco _sodding_ Malfoy using a muggle expression. She had an inkling it was another one of the Nott heir's influences.

"What exactly are you doing?"

Hermione had half a mind to yell at him for giving nothing but vague instructions, but the sincere way he seemed to have asked the question made her reel herself in a little. "I'm doing what you said. I'm labeling the situation, storing it in a book, then stuffing it inside the trunk."

"What exactly are you labeling?"

Hermione looked at him oddly. What else would she be labeling? "Flying." The dramatic way Malfoy took a deep breath in, exhaling it out of his mouth in a drawn out sigh, made her want to knock him off his broom.

"Fear. Uncertainty. Anxiety. These are a few of the things you should be labeling, and stuffing into that trunk of yours. Not 'flying'. What do you fear? Heights? Falling? Breaking a bone? Dying? What are you uncertain about? Your magic? Your skills to control a broom? What's making you anxious? The ice? The chance of drowning? Remember what I told you last time, Granger. You can't be _vague_. Occlumency is all about being specific. You can't allow your mind the leeway to interpret things in different ways. Your mind can't hide something if it doesn't even know what it's supposed to hide in the first place."

Hermione blinked at him, not able to contradict a word from his mouth. Once again, he made sense. It was just like that exercise with the bookshelf except, in that ordeal, all the pieces of the puzzle were clear. This time around, she had to figure things out as they go.

She took a deep breath in, exhaling it slowly out of her nose. Doing what Malfoy was asking her to do meant having to face the worst of her insecurities.

The main reason why she hated flying was because it made her question the validity of her existence in the wizarding world. Flying was a natural affinity for witches and wizards. To them, it was as simple as breathing, as natural as walking. It was something that people with magic just… knew.

Flying was the only thing she couldn't excel at even if she studied her ass off. Even if she snuck in the Gryffindor Quidditch broom closets every night during the first semester of freshman year, trying to get the damn things to lift up off the floor and all the way to her hands.

She knew all the facts, understood all of the theory. Heck, she even went as far as reading every book on flying she could find in the library. And there were _a lot_. But even then, she still couldn't do it.

What frustrated her the most was the fact that she tried _so_ hard. She tried, _damn it_! Not that she ever let anyone else know. It was something she would never admit out loud. Making people think that she didn't put in any effort was so much better than letting them know that she did, but had nothing to show for it.

Draco watched the expressions on her face shift from one emotion to another in the span of ten seconds. He had half a mind to ask her what she was doing, but he had a feeling she was sorting through the things she needed to occlude. He let out a sigh.

He was secretly glad he decided to focus their interactions on Occlumency. That way things could stay professional and he could just keep her at a distance. When he first saw her this morning, he felt… nothing. It made him want to jump for joy and thank the heavens for finally letting him regain his sanity.

He knew that whatever… inclination he might have felt towards her was a fluke brought about by inebriation, sleep deprivation, or the rare moments of vulnerability. All he had to do now was make sure things stay professional, and nothing of that sort would ever happen again.

The sight of her slowly floating up into the air, face void of any emotion, made Draco blink. He watched her stop just a few feet off the ground, pushing forward steadily through the ice. Her broom would wobble every now and then, but if it unnerved her, she showed no indication.

Hermione felt detached, but not in the same way she was used to. She could feel the broom shift forward gradually; her gaze still on the blanket of snow on the ground, before it turned into a patch of ice.

She was on the lake now, staring at her reflection against the frozen water, seeing a shadow of herself she wasn't used to. She looked calm, unreadable – empty. Slowly, she allowed herself to lift her head; eyes scanning through the rest of the frozen wonderland before landing onto–

Sparkling gray orbs.

A wide, uninhibited smile.

Suddenly, she was going a mile a minute, barely having the chance to scream before she landed face first into a mountain of snow – mouth full of ice, broom nowhere to be found.

"Granger!"

Hermione clawed her way out of the snow, spitting out shaved bits of ice as she tried to salvage what was left of her pride. She felt a hand on her wrist, pulling her out instantly, making her yelp in surprise. She was on her feet, staring at a pair of wide gray eyes in the next second.

"What the fuck was that all about?!"

"Why the hell were you-" She huffed, stopping herself before she could finish her question. Was he? Was he really smiling at her back then? Or was it just a figment of her imagination? It caught her off guard so much that it broke her concentration, making her lose control of the broom entirely.

"Why the hell was I _what_? _"_

"Nothing…" Hermione pulled herself out of his hold, bringing her gaze down as she tapped the snow off her clothes. "It was nothing. I just lost focus, that's all." She froze the moment she felt another pair of hands start to swipe against her shoulders, pulling off her knitted hat to wiggle it clean.

She blinked at his focused gaze on the top of her head, not exactly understanding what was going on. His gloved hands were on her hair now, gently pushing away bits and pieces of ice before replacing the hat back on her.

The second their eyes met was the exact moment Draco realized just what the hell he was doing. And _fuck_. What the _fuck_ was he doing?! He needed to say something. Do something. Something that would undo yet another temporary moment of insanity! He needed to sound dismissive, uncaring, completely and utterly unbothered.

"Did you hurt yourself?"

He wanted to slam his head hard onto one of the cedar trees.

"Uh… No." Hermione scanned his face, still trying to make sense of what just happened. She was sure she didn't hit her head anywhere, but… wait, did she? Because having a concussion was the only plausible explanation for Malfoy's uncharacteristic behavior.

"Okay." Draco turned around to look for his broom. Did he seriously chuck it off that far away? He clicked his tongue. With his Firebolt back in his hand, he cleared his throat, glad to have some semblance of control again. He headed back towards the edge of the lake, not bothering to spare her a glance. "Let's try again. And try not to fall on your ass this time."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the offhanded insult, but before she could get one in herself, Malfoy tripped over something, falling down ungracefully into a heap of snow. She watched him bolt up quickly, turning around to check if he'd been spotted.

Draco felt his face turn into a million shades of red at the sight of her laughing at his expense – arms clutching her middle, eyes closed in unbridled amusement. He wanted to scream at her to shut up, but the melodious ring of her laughter, and the wide smile on her face, stilled him.

"What was that... about falling... on my ass?" Hermione was on her knees now, gasping for air at the hilarity of it all. The memory of the snooty Malfoy heir losing some bit of poise would definitely keep her entertained for weeks! 

Draco felt his shoulders relax; the telltale signs of a smile itching on his face. It was contagious – her laugh – the way it brightened up her entire face, making her seem so much younger that she actually was. The joy radiating off of her made her look absolutely–

He turned away the moment her eyes flew open, running a finger through his nose to feign nonchalance. He pocketed his free hand, shifting his gaze back to meet hers once he was sure he regained some bit of composure.

Warm brown eyes accompanied by poorly contained giggles made him forget what he initially planned on saying. The only thought left in his mind was how unbelievably fucked he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE! LOL!
> 
> So sorry I took so long to update. Let's just say I got stuck on my year end introspections, thinking about my existence, purpose, life's meaning and direction, as well as stagnation and growth :p
> 
> I have an annoyingly active mind. It never let's me rest T.T
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading! I have to admit I really missed writing this story. A kudos and comment would be highly appreciated :) Until next time ^^


	21. Idiots

"Malfoy, what the hell is this?"

"Your next assignment."

Hermione felt her eye twitch as she glared at Malfoy in disbelief. When the letter he sent her a few days ago told her date number seven was at Honeydukes this Sunday at nine in the morning, she felt her brain pause.

What the hell were they going to do at a candy store?

She sent him several letters throughout the rest of the week, but most had been unanswered, much to her annoyance. His only reply had been sent last evening, and it had been a single sentence underlined for emphasis.

_Don't be late._

"And what _exactly_ is my assignment?" She continued to look at him as if he was speaking a foreign language unknown to her.

"Eating." Draco shrugged as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

"Eating." Hermione deadpanned, hoping Malfoy actually had the courtesy to explain things in detail instead of expecting her to just decipher whatever it was that was running through his head. "We can't _eat_ inside a candy shop, Malfoy. This isn't a restaurant!"

"It's closed off for the rest of the morning." He replied curtly, moving away from their position by the door to pick out a few items from the shelves.

Hermione just gaped at him as he moved from one side of the room to another, dropping down all kinds of things onto the table with the cash register. "Did you _reserve_ this entire place?"

"Obviously." Draco rolled his eyes, tilting his head at her, signaling her to follow him.

Hermione let out a resigned sigh. What was it with him and his tendency to just… _buy_ everything? Didn't he stop to think how much money he was wasting? And wasn't their bank account frozen? Where the hell was he getting his Galleons from? Perhaps the Malfoys had a secret basement stashed with unregistered wealth? She snorted. She wouldn't put it past them really.

She stood by the counter, watching as Malfoy moved towards the side of the cashier. She felt herself get gradually nauseous at the sight of the items laid out on the table.

Chocolate cauldrons, Ice Mice, Jelly Slugs, Chocolate Wands, Peppermint Toad, Sugar Quills, Pixie Puffs, Fudge Flies, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Licorice Wands–

"We're still at blocking Granger. Given you haven't successfully done it for more than five seconds."

Her glare was on him in an instant. She was sure it had been _more_ than five seconds, give or take ten! "Then why are we at a candy shop? Why not get back to the lake?"

"Because then it would predictable, and it would go against the entire point of this exercise." Draco rolled his eyes. "You can keep redoing the flying challenge as much as you want. Your Occlumency will definitely improve a lot from doing it. Besides, let's be honest, your flying could use some work." He paused, rethinking his choice of words. "Scratch that, _a lot_ of work. You really, _really_ suck."

Hermione was seething now. Why was it that he always made it a point to use words that were practically begging her to just punch him on the face?

"Since we don't have the luxury of time, you need to learn to block things that come at you in an instant. Like now." He folded his arms on his chest to prove a point. "This was unexpected, completely out of your calculations, and you absolutely hate it." He smirked, looking down at her from under his nose.

Now she really, _really_ wanted to punch him on the face.

"Pick one."

She narrowed her eyes at him as he jutted his chin towards the stash of sweets on the table.

"Why?"

Draco took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly through his nose. Did she always have to question every little thing? "Oh, I'm sorry. Did I need to present a thousand word dissertation proposal in order to explain why I'm offering you a piece of candy?"

If she thought the urge to sock him on the jaw had been strong earlier, she was wrong. _Now_ she really wanted to hit him.

"Just pick one, Granger."

She grabbed one of the chocolate wands off the table; her glare still on him unmoving. "What now?"

"Pick another one." He rolled his eyes at her exasperated sigh.

"What are we doing, Malfoy? _Seriously_." She looked at him pointedly. "I can't work with you if you don't tell me anything!"

"Just pick two more!" Draco clicked his tongue, growing steadily aggravated with her relentless inquiries.

Hermione threw her hand up in the air in frustration, grabbing the sugar quill and toffee packets before dropping them in his outstretched hand. She watched him put aside her three choices, sorting through the rest of the sweets he laid out on the table. "Malfoy–"

"Would it kill you to wait for just one bloody minute, Granger?" He sent her an annoyed looked; hands not pausing from their task despite the shift in his attention.

"If you just explained everything from the beginning then–" Hermione paused mid-rant when she saw him push five items towards her side of the counter.

"The reason why I haven't explained anything yet is because I needed to validate something beforehand." He crossed his arms on his chest, sending her a pointed glance.

"Which is what exactly?"

"You hate sweet things. Or rather, you aren't fond of them." He watched her eyes widen a fraction, clearly surprised he knew that detail. "The goal is to eat these…" He paused to direct his gaze down onto the packets he left on the table. "…without an ounce of emotion."

Hermione inspected each of them, feeling her stomach churn at their mere sight. Fizzing Wizbees, Exploding bonbons, Pepper Imps, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, and Cockroach _fucking_ Clusters?! "You have _got_ to be kidding me!" She eyed him like she would a madman. "What was the point of making me choose then?!"

"So I'd know which type you actually prefer, and then pick the opposite." He shrugged, completely undeterred by her irritation. "All you need to do to pass the test, is eat one of each with your Occlumency walls intact."

She looked down at the treats once again, not believing what he was asking her to do. Fizzing Wizbees would make her float off the ground. Exploding bonbons, as the name suggested, would blow up in her mouth. Pepper Imps would cause her ears to smoke and her mouth to breathe fire. Bertie Bott's was a dark horse. She would either pick a good one, or an incredibly nasty one. It was a game of chance. But the last was the absolute worst.

"I'm not eating cockroaches!" She folded her arms on her chest, standing her ground.

"They're peanuts, Granger. Not real–"

"I wasn't born yesterday, Malfoy! I _know_ they're real cockroaches." She glared at him. Did he honestly think he could trick her? The story of Ron fooling Fred into eating one of them by saying they were peanuts had been told so many times at the Burrow that she could recite every damn word even in her sleep!

Draco fought to urge to click his tongue. It was worth a shot. "Fine. Pick three. Eat one from each. Then the task is done."

Hermione huffed, still annoyed at him for being such a prick. She didn't know what his deal was, but he was acting more of an ass now than their last date. She groaned at the thought, correcting it in her head immediately. Their last _fake_ date.

After careful deliberation, she picked the Fizzing Wizbees, Exploding bonbons, and Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. She grabbed the rest of the unchosen options, placing them back to their shelves, knowing for a fact that the annoying blonde wouldn't bother to do it himself.

She walked back to the counter, pausing in place when she saw Malfoy holding a Chocoball. She watched him dip it into a cauldron of Bat's Blood Soup by the corner, munching on it with a child-like happiness she wasn't used to seeing on his face. She blinked.

He was the very definition of a bloody kid in a fucking candy store!

Did he pick this place because it was a good choice to work on her Occlumency, or did he pick it just because he wanted to eat sweets? She snorted. She watched him school his expression back into an impassive one when he realized he'd been caught.

"What are you looking at?" He raised a brow. "Those sweets aren't going to eat themselves." He moved to sit on one of the stools, nodding his head towards the treats on the table. "Hurry up, Granger. We don't have all year."

Hermione clenched her jaw to reel in the mocking remark hanging at the tip of her tongue. She wanted to make fun of him and his blatant love for sweet things. She really wanted to _so bad_. But seeing him chomping on the dessert in his hand – lips curled into a small smile, corners riddled with chocolate sauce – made it difficult. She sighed. He better thank his lucky stars she woke up on the right side of her bed today.

Draco shifted his gaze back on her, watching her deliberate over the options on the table. It was working, it seemed. Shifting their dynamic back to slightly more hostile territory made that weird feeling in his chest disappear. Perhaps that, plus keeping things strictly professional, was the cure to his insani– _temporary_ moment of insanity. He nodded at the discovery. His plan seemed to be working. He smirked, taking another bite of the delicious dessert.

* * *

"So that's why she's getting fat."

Ginny flinched at the baritone voice that cut through the air, whirling around in surprise. "Zabini." She called out to him in a whisper, pressing a hand against her chest to calm the rapid beating of her heart. She hadn't expected to get caught so soon.

"Care to explain to me why you're here, feeding my cat with a can of tuna, Weasley?"

She turned back towards the ginger feline lounging on her crossed legs as she sat on the floor, trying her best to think of an excuse. She clicked her tongue. Why was he here now? He told her he was usually at his restaurant during lunch.

"If you wanted to see me so badly, all you had to do was ask."

She closed her eyes in annoyance at the conceited tone of his voice. "Don't flatter yourself, Zabini." She threw a quick glare over her shoulder. "I'm just here for the cat."

"Sure…" Came his disbelieving drawl. He moved towards her, leaning against the wall directly within her line of sight as he folded his arms. "I've got some time actually." He looked down at her with a smirk. "I guess I can indulge you. If you say, _please_."

Ginny let out an ungraceful snort. "Stop projecting your crap at me, Zabini. I'm leaving the moment she finishes the tuna."

Blaise hummed in reply, nodding his head at her patronizingly. "Of course. Of course." He stretched a hand out towards her in mock courteousness. "By all means."

She rolled her eyes, deciding to focus her attention on the adorable bundle cradled in her lap instead. She ran a finger from the top of its head, dragging it down all the way to its nose. She pursed her lips to fight a smile when the cat attempted to catch it, pulling it closer against its warm.

"You've got Ginger wrapped around your finger." Blaise chuckled to himself. "Literally."

Ginny huffed at the annoying reminder that he was still in the room with her. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"No. Not at the moment." He shook his head, donning an innocent look he was sure would piss her off further.

She huffed at him again, ready to start an argument, when something he said caught her attention. "Wait. Did you just call her _Ginger_?"

He responded with a short noncommittal sound.

"Are you serious?"

He narrowed his eyes at the look of judgment she sent his way. "What?"

"You named a ginger cat… Ginger?" Ginny didn't know if she wanted to laugh or shake her head. "Lacking in the creativity department, I see. Or perhaps issues with commitment? After all, you can't get attached if you don't give it a proper name." She shrugged, smirking when she saw his expression darken.

"She's _my_ cat. Whatever I name her is _my_ business."

"Sure…" She imitated his earlier disbelieving tone, knowing it would push his buttons. "Do you even pet her? Play with her? Actually spend time with her?" His silence was enough of an answer. She sighed out loud dramatically, shaking her head at him, knowing the gesture would set him off as well.

"How I treat her is none of your business, Weasley." He clenched his jaw, feeling himself start to get defensive. "Like I said, she's _my_ cat."

She ignored the rest of his statement, choosing to look back down towards Ginger, patting her gently. "You have it rough, huh?"

Blaise narrowed his eyes, glaring down at the traitorous cat curled around the annoying redhead. Sure he wasn't fully invested in her, and didn't spend a lot of time with her, but Ginger was _his_. She shouldn't be so generous with her affection towards others! He clicked his tongue. So this was how Pansy felt towards Cher.

He bent down on one knee, reaching a hand out towards the feline who went back to stuffing itself with food. "Ginger. Here girl. Come on."

Ginny took a moment to just… look at him. Was he _seriously_ attempting to start a pissing contest with her? She scoffed. What was he? Five?

"Ginger! Hey… Come on, girl."

Ginny folded her hands on her chest to prove that she wasn't doing anything to hold the cat to her. She threw him a smug look, feeling satisfied with the obvious win. "Why not give her to me?"

Blaise stood back up to his full height, crossing his arms as he looked down at her in disdain. " _Excuse me_?"

"How much?" She threw him a determined gaze. She's always wanted a cat. If he wasn't going to take good care of his, then he might as well just hand it over to her.

"Ginger is _not_ for sale."

"How about a bet then?" Ginny grinned. "If you can get her to your side before she finishes the tuna, I'll drop it. If she doesn't, she's mine." She watched him sputter at her in disbelief.

"Do you think I'm an idiot? I'm not putting my cat on the line on a stupid wager!"

"Oh come on! You don't like her that much anyway!"

"She's _mine_. Get your own cat!"

"Well she clearly likes me better!"

"Wha-No she doesn't! You're bribing her with food that's why!"

"Just _give_ her to me!"

" _No_!"

Ginny let out a frustrated growl at his obstinacy. Cats had always been at ease with her, and were quick to show her affection, but there was just something about Ginger that was… different. She felt a weird tug on her heartstrings the moment she laid her eyes on her. She just couldn't stay away. She clicked her tongue. He obviously wasn't that fond of cats, so why was he holding onto this one so tightly?

"Look, Weasley…" He let out a breath to calm himself down. He was letting his anger get the better of him again. Why was talking to her always so aggravating? "I get that you like her, but she stays _here_. She's not going anywhere." He threw her a look of finality. "Just visit her whenever you feel like it."

Ginny gaped at him, not sure if she heard him right. Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. Maybe she ate something bad and it was somehow messing with her hearing. Maybe she was still tired from practice yesterday. Or maybe… Maybe… She tried her best to think of reasons she might have misheard him, because there was no way in hell Blaise _bloody_ Zabini just offer her unlimited access to his flat.

The implications of his words dawned on Blaise the moment he saw the stunned expression on her face. He blinked, and in that short span of time, he'd been able to curse himself, and the next future generations of his bloodline, a hundred times over. What the _fuck_ was he saying?! He wracked his brain frantically for something he could use to remedy the situation.

"For the cat, of course. You can visit the ca-Ginger. You can visit Ginger."

"I know." She looked at him oddly. "You said it the first time, Zabini."

He watched her pull off the cat from her lap, vanishing the empty can of tuna, before awkwardly nodding her leave.

Blaise closed his eyes the moment the pop of apparition reached his ears. He went back to cursing at himself and the entirety of his family tree, making sure no ancestor and predecessor was safe. He groaned.

What the bloody hell came over him?

* * *

Hermione glanced at the cluster of old people sitting on plastic chairs, hunched towards compact foldable tables, deep in thought. Some were quiet, some were ecstatic, while some would curse and whine and brag. One look at the scene was all she needed to figure out what date number eight was going to be all about.

Chess.

She pinched the bridge of her nose. After that monstrosity of a challenge back at Honeydukes, he was going to give her _this_? He barely even took notice of her back at the candy store, outright labeling her attempts to eat the sweets without reacting as a failure. She huffed. Okay… He _may_ not have bothered to pay close attention because she couldn't stop her entire body from flinching, nor could she stop herself from making a sound… but _still_! She grit her teeth.

Was he seriously setting things up so she would fail?

"Malfoy…" She took a deep breath in to calm down her growing aggravation. "Are we-"

"Yes." Draco fought the grin crawling up his face as he looked down on her. He folded his arms on his chest, feeling a sense of victory over catching her completely off guard once again.

"Are you _serious_?" Her voice was just above a whisper; eyes never leaving the makeshift rows of players scattered in one area of the park. When Draco had first shown her the portkey in his hand, and told her they would be travelling to muggle London's Victoria Park, she certainly didn't expect something like this.

"How did you even find this place?" She pointed a finger right at the crowd of people, eying him in disbelief.

"Blaise." He shrugged. "And don't point, Granger. It's impolite."

She rolled her eyes, not having the patience to deal with his pureblood propriety. "Blaise as in, Blaise _Zabini_?"

"Do you know any other Blaise?" He sent her a pointed look for asking him a stupid question. He walked away from her, moving towards the group in search for the person in charge.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Hermione stalked after him in panic.

"Asking them to let you join, of course."

She was running after him now, annoyed by the fact that a single stride of his was worth two of hers. "You can't do that!"

"Blaise already gave them a heads up."

Malfoy's statement stunned her in place, needing a moment to process exactly what he just said. Blaise I'm-too-good-for-any-of-this-shit Zabini _actually_ knew these people who played chess at Victoria's Park every Saturday mornings? She shook her head in disbelief. How? _Why_?

Hermione watched as Malfoy conversed with one of the older men in the group, before he turned around to tilt his head at her, calling her over. The gesture snapped her out of her reverie, rushing towards him with a slew of questions at the tip of her tongue.

"How on earth does Zabini know about this place?"

Draco let out sigh. Why did Granger always have to ask so many questions? "He just _does_."

"What does he even do here?"

This time Draco snapped his head at her in irritation. "He plays! What else would he do here?"

"He does _what_?" Hermione was gaping at him now. Blaise I'm-better-than-any-of-you-losers Zabini… played chess with muggles?

Draco rolled his eyes, not bothering to answer such a pointless question. "All you have to do, is play one game while attempting to occlude your emotions."

His statement reminded her once again why they were here. "Why chess?" Her aggravation was back tenfold. "Why not pick something else like… scrabble!"

He looked at her as if she just grew another head with an equally bushy mane. As if _anyone_ could beat her at scrabble! "The entire point of this exercise is to _occlude_ , Granger, not win! You hate losing, you hate chess because you suck at it, and most of all, your mutter when you strategize!"

"I do not!" Hermione felt her face burn at his observation.

She was aware that almost everyone in their year knew she was bad at chess ever since she and Ron battled it out in The Great Hall during their sophomore year. He and a few of the Gryffindors boys had been using the game as a means to gamble. It was nothing major at first. Just some snacks, and a few school supplies. But when it started getting grander, moving onto money, she threatened she would tell Professor Dumbledore if he didn't stop. Long story short, he challenged her to a game under the conditions of her silence versus his resignation.

She lost. _Overwhelmingly_. And she had flipped the chess board over in anger, stomping all the way towards the headmaster's office to tell on Ron.

It definitely wasn't her proudest moment. Back then, the concept of losing, of actually being beaten at something, was still incredibly foreign to her. And to be defeated by someone like Ron, someone she considered at that time as vastly inferior to her, set her off completely.

"Are ya snotty nosed brats gonna play?! Or are ya gonna stand there yellin' all day?!"

Hermione and Draco turned towards an old man sitting alone by a desk with a set chess board. He had a thick, scruffy beard, a worn down beanie over his shaggy ashen hair, and his clothes looked like they've been worn all week.

"Well?! Which one ah ya's playin'?!"

Draco turned his head towards the stunned Gryffindor standing right beside him, stretching his hand out towards the grumpy old man. "Ladies first." He smirked.

Hermione threw him a death glare before planting herself on the chair right across the old man. "Good day sir, my name is-"

"Don't need ya name, lass! Game's speed chess. Ya know it?"

She nodded, calming her thoughts down to recall all the information she had about chess. After losing to Ron that day, she locked herself up in her room all weekend, reading everything she could find about the game.

To her, chess was the muggle equivalent of flying. No matter how hard she studied, her application of the theories always fell short. She gave up on it much quicker than she had with flying. She'd never been fond of the game to begin with, and unlike riding on a broom, it had no concrete application in real life.

"5/0. Ya got it?"

"Five minutes time control, zero second increments." She nodded, shifting her gaze down towards the board. She's never actually _played_ speed chess. She just knew everything in theory. She swallowed. She had a feeling this would be yet another one sided game. After all, she was never good at split second decisions.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the strange terminology. What the hell were they talking about? What was speed chess? What did time control and increments mean? And why did Granger look like she understood them? He grumbled to himself. Was muggle chess different from its wizarding counterpart?

The game began, and instead of focusing his gaze on her face to check on her occlusion, his eyes were glued on the board.

What the fuck were they doing?

They were moving pieces at a fast rate, slamming their hands on one of the top buttons of the weird two-faced clock. The second hand on their side would still every time they pushed against it. It took a few more moves from both sides before Draco finally understood what it was all about.

It was a race against time.

He watched the progression of the game intently, feeling himself slowly get enthralled with the pace. It was frantic, desperate, and all over the place. Well, at least in Granger's case it was. He snorted. The old man seemed to know his stuff. He moved his pieces around with a calm decisiveness that told Draco he's probably been playing long before Granger had been born.

The game was finished with a little over four minutes still left on the old man's clock.

Draco pursed his lips to hide his amusement. "Good effort, Granger." A glare was all he got as a response. "Since I expected a game to last at least fifteen to thirty minutes, care to play again?"

"Shut it." Hermione warned, clenching her jaw tightly to reel in her frustration. She lost. _Fuck_ she lost! _Ah_ … She fucking _hated_ losing! She hated this shitty ass game _so much_! Damn it! Damn it all to _bloody hell_!

Draco could practically hear her aggravated thoughts. He had an inkling that if she had been alone, she probably would have thrown a fit by now. He grinned, opening his mouth to add fuel to the fire, when the rude old man cut him off.

"Ey, pretty hair in a suit! Ya play?"

It took Draco a few seconds to realize that he was the one being addressed. "Excuse me?"

"Do ya play, pretty boy… Or are ya deaf?"

Hermione watched Malfoy straighten his posture further, crossing his arms on his chest as he looked down at the old man. He looked poised for battle.

"What's it to you?"

"If ya can't play, leave! Ya wastin' space! Just go buy yerself sum'ore hair spray!"

The snort of amusement was out of Hermione's mouth before she could catch it. She turned her gaze towards Malfoy, catching him throw her a quick glare, before sneering back at the old geezer.

"Listen you-" Draco's tirade had been cut short when the rest of the group started chastising the rude man.

"Oh come on, Har, stop harassing the newbies."

"Don't mind old Har! He talks to everyone like that!"

"Yeah, he scares all the youngsters who come over."

"That's why we're stuck with this old bunch! No one new ever joins in!"

"Cheer up, Harry!"

Hermione felt herself smile at the warm reprimanding voices that echoed through the group. These people had known each other for a very long time; probably even considered each other family.

"What did they say your name was again?"

Hermione turned her gaze back to Malfoy, surprised to see his expression darken.

"Harry." The old man called out proudly. _"What's it to you?"_ He mocked, showing off his yellow teeth as he grinned maniacally.

Hermione glanced at Malfoy once again, seeing a cold smirk crawl up his face. It reminded her so much of all the times he would make fun of them back at Hogwarts. She narrowed her eyes. What could have caused his sudden– She rolled her tongue in her mouth. No. He couldn't be serious. Was he… She let out a long exasperated breath.

Was he _seriously_ triggered by the old man's _name_?

She watched him move towards the plastic chair, eying it with a mixture of disgust and disdain. He jutted it out further with the tip of his Dragonhide boots, before planting himself near the edge of its seat; not allowing himself to lean against it.

"Okay, _Harry_. Let's play."

* * *

"Again!"

"Kid, could ya-"

"I said again, didn't I?!"

Hermione closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in, exhaling it slowly out of her nose. Harry and Malfoy had been at it for the last hour now, playing a total of seven speed chess games, _all_ in Harry's favor. Malfoy kept refusing to accept defeat, continuously challenging the old man _every single time_.

They attracted a crowd by now; some of the players even going as far as pausing their own games just to watch the veteran and the newbie go at it.

"You're not bad kid! You actually keep old Har on his toes!"

"Hey guys, check the new guy out! He's good!"

"I can't believe old Har isn't talking trash! He never shuts up during a game!"

"Interesting. Maybe somebody other than Blaise can beat him."

The last comment caught Hermione's attention. "Excuse me, madam?" She turned to look at the classy old lady a few paces on her right, standing with her arms folded, clutching a peach colored shawl around her shoulders. "You know Blaise Zabini?" The old woman smiled at her as she nodded.

"Of course, darling. Everyone does. He's the only one here who's ever beaten Harry at the game." She chuckled at the memory of the old man blinking repeated at the chess board, not believing he just lost to a teenage boy. "They keep score you know. Last time I checked, it was 79-78 in Blaise's favor. We lost count of all the draws!"

"When did it start exactly?" Hermione watched the old woman tilt her head to one side, contemplating her answer.

"Maybe three? No. Four years ago." She nodded with certainty.

Hermione did the math easily. Four years ago… 1996. The year the ministry officially announced the start of the second wizarding war. She blinked. So Blaise Zabini had been in muggle London at that time?

"Despite how he looks, Harry's won the British Chess Championship a few times you know. So imagine our surprise when some nameless kid just waltzed right in here and beat him!" The old woman chuckled again.

Hermione could totally imagine Blaise bloody Zabini just strutting towards a group of muggles, demanding that they let him play. She snorted. He always had that shameless vibe to him, just like Malfoy did. She paused. Come to think of it, Nott seemed to have that too. She snorted again. She could totally see now why all three of them were friends.

"Bloody fucking… _Again_!"

"Kid-"

"We're playing again, damn it!" 

Hermione turned her attention back to the pair on the table, shaking her head as a chorus of laughter erupted from the crowd at the sight of the obnoxious blonde's relentless hounding of the old man.

"I like you newbie! You've got fire!"

"I've never seen old Har so exasperated!"

"Who-hoo! Go kid!"

"I'm betting blondie will pull an upset, just like that last one."

"Nah, I'm betting on Harry. Experience always wins."

And _that_ was where Hermione drew the line. They needed to leave before the people here started setting up an illegal gambling ring. She walked towards Malfoy, offering Harry a small nod of apology. "Sorry sir, he really hates losing."

"Ya don't say?" The old man replied sarcastically with a raised brow.

She blinked at chess master's expression, seeing a layer of fondness underneath his harsh gaze even as he shook his head at the blonde. She scoffed in amusement. Did he actually enjoy Malfoy's company?

"We do need to get going though."

"What?" Draco snapped his head at her, annoyed by the obvious lie. "No we don't! I almost had him that last time!"

Hermione sent him a glare, hoping it would silence his competitiveness. "Malfoy, he's a champion at chess. You can't beat him."

"Just because _you_ can't doesn't mean I-" He paused when he noticed old Har stand up from his seat. "And where the hell do you think you're going?!"

"Feed yer girl, kid. It's past lunch." Harry called out, noticing both of them look at him with wide eyes. "What? Ya kids not humpin' like rabbits?"

Playful jeering from the crowd reverberated throughout the park.

"Oh shut up, Harry!" They yelled out in unison, before glaring at each other in annoyance. "Don't copy me!" They screamed simultaneously once again, much to the amusement of the group.

"Ya… Sure…" Old Har rolled his eyes, shaking his head at them both. "Eat yer lunch, and drink yer milk. Ya kids make sure ta use protection, aight?"

That was all Hermione was willing to tolerate. She huffed at the group of silly old men and women, feeling her cheeks burn at their teasing. She grabbed onto Malfoy's arm firmly, dragging him out of the cheering crowd. She could hear him arguing with the old man even as she pulled him away.

"See ya when yer ready ta lose again!"

Old Har's cackling was loud, raspy, and it grated on Draco's nerves. He kept yelling at him in frustration up until they rounded a corner, finally out of sight. He pulled himself out of her grasp, glaring at her in disdain.

"What the hell, Granger?!"

"That's my line!" She glared right back at him. "What on earth happened back there?"

"I was _winning_! Why do you have to be such a stick in the mud?!" Draco walked away, stomping his feet heavily on the ground, kicking a pebble that stood in his way.

Hermione placed her hands on her hips, looking at him in disbelief. What was he? Five? "And you said _I_ hated losing." She snorted as he whirled right back around to glare at her. "You're basically the perfect poster boy for sore loser."

"I am _not_ a sore loser!"

The blank look she sent him made him catch himself, unable to say anything further. He turned around, huffing at nothing in particular, stalking away from her further.

Hermione rolled her eyes, jogging slowly towards him until they finally fell in step.

He looked at her oddly, not at all expecting she'd run after him. His heart was still pounding in his chest, but this time, it hadn't been because of anger. Was she going to ask him if he was alright again? Was she going to hound him with her relentless questioning? He turned away, hoping she would leave him alone.

He didn't need her to explain to him what happened back there. He heard Potter's name and in an instant, he was back at Hogwarts feeling an inconceivable need to just… win. It was stupid, immature, and downright _unbelievable_! He groaned, not understanding what came over him exactly.

He sighed, pocketing his hands into his trousers as he walked around the park aimlessly. The greenery began to ease his mind bit by bit, when an old memory suddenly flashed in his mind.

_(Flashback)_

_"Draco."_

_Draco flinched at the stern tone; the crystal pawn slipping out of his tiny fingers. He panicked, attempting to catch it in his hands, only to see it levitated back safely onto the chess board. He looked up._

_"What are you doing in my study in the middle of the night?" Lucius narrowed his eyes, shifting his gaze towards the set up board game by the coffee table._

_Draco stood up off the couch slowly, bowing his head in apology. "Sorry, father…"_

_"Were you playing?"_

_Draco nodded his head, gaze still fixed on the carpet. He heard an exasperated sigh._

_"I didn't know you knew how to play."_

_Draco looked up, seeing his father look down on him with a mildly impressed expression on his face. "I-I just read the books… I'm not nearly as good as you, father."_

_The statement made Lucius raise a brow. "And how do you know I'm good at it?"_

_Draco felt his shoulders relax when he realized his father was no longer cross with him. "I see you play it with your guests." He shrugged. "You always win."_

_"Not always. Just mostly." Lucius corrected as he tilted his chin up, a small smirk on his lips. "Would you like to learn?"_

_Draco blinked several times, surprised by the offer. He nodded his head repeatedly, looking up at his father in excitement._

_(End of flashback)_

Draco remembered waking up the next day, eager to finish all his tutoring so he could head back to his father's study to play chess. But after his supposed last period, just before he could dash out of his delegated classroom, he ran into a woman looking down on him from under her glasses.

_You must be Mister Malfoy? I'm Miss Harmon. From today onwards, I will be your chess teacher._

He scoffed at the memory, shaking his head as he chuckled to himself. He was stupid to expect anything else from his father. He reached his fingers into the breast pocket of his jacket, pausing midway when a melodious voice reached his ears.

"What's so funny?"

He stopped in his tracks, letting go of the flask before he pulled his hand out of his jacket. He turned around to look at the bushy haired witch standing just a few paces away, surprised to see her there.

"Why are you following me?" He gaped at her. The date was obviously done, and the lesson was clearly finished. So why was she still here? What did she want from him? He blinked.

Why hasn't she left?

His heart started racing again as he stared at her. Her brown eyes looked more amber than chocolate under the bright rays of the morning sun; specks of gold and copper glowing from within. The soft wind was blowing through the curls of her hai–

"You have the portkey."

Draco blinked once. Twice. "Huh?"

"The _portkey_ , Malfoy." Hermione said slowly this time, emphasizing each word. "How the hell am I supposed to get back home without it?"

Draco wanted to slap himself on the face. _Of course_ she stayed for the portkey! What other reason was there?

"Right. Of course. The portkey."

* * *

"Don't _move_. Don't _think_. Don't _speak_. Don't even _breathe_ , Potter. Or else, I swear to Merlin, I will _end_ you."

Harry rolled his eyes at the panicking Slytherin seated across from him. She had her hands out to her sides, pressing against the walls of the tiny compartment as she spat out one curse after another. He snorted, stuffing his hands into the pocket of his jeans as he started out into the horizon.

Pansy took a moment to calm herself down. _This is a relaxing ride_ , he said. _You won't even feel a thing_ , he added. The stupid git! He obviously forgot to mention the fact that they would be stuffed like sardines in a fucking can, suspended several feet off the ground, swaying back and forth thanks to the force of the damn _breeze_!

She looked up at the open ceiling, feeling another wave of panic rise in her chest at the sight of rusted screws. She looked around the metal box they were housed in, eying the chipped worn down paint and fractured steel sheets. She let out a squeal of surprise when the bottom of her heel slipped through a small crack on the floor.

"Potter, if I die here, I will haunt you, and the next hundred generations of your bloodline, until the end of time."

Harry rolled his eyes at her theatrics, not bothering to grace her with a reply. Thanks to her ridiculous stint back at the bump cars last week, they'd been kicked out of the ride. The thought of showing his face back at the amusement park so soon made his stomach churn so much that he just had to look for a different place for this week's meet up. He groaned. He'd never felt so embarrassed his entire life!

He knew Parkinson was mean, and to say that she had a sharp tongue would be the understatement of the year; but he had no idea her nastiness extended to _children_. Sure the group of kids back then started ganging up on them, ramming their cars all over their vehicle and laughing at their expense; but for her, the supposed _adult_ in the situation, to rise up to the bait… He shook his head.

He could still remember the dangerous glint in her eyes when she ordered him to move over as she walked out of the passenger seat, taking the wheel herself. The image of Parkinson slamming their car onto the children, making them cry with her trash talking was a scene straight out of a horror movie.

_Dropped your glasses, nerd? With a nose like that you can't expect any eyepiece to hang on now, can you?_

_I had no idea they let rabbits in here! Oh, you're a girl? Well, your teeth certainly fooled me!_

_Hey ugly! You? Well of course I'm talking to you! You see anyone else here with a face like a troll's?_

_What? Gonna call for your mommy, huh, fat kid? Gonna run home and cry?_

_How you kids like me now, huh?! How you like. Me. Now!_

Harry rubbed the palm of his hand down his face, sighing out loud. She was absolutely unbelievable!

He groaned when he realized she was still complaining, spouting out random threats and insults his way. He clicked his tongue. He'd had enough. He planted his feet firmly on the floor of the compartment, bending his torso back and forth to rattle it.

"Potter you bloody imbecile what the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

Pansy let out another screech when she felt the steel box move once again.

Harry eyed her resolutely, waiting for her to say another rude statement before swaying the carriage, when a yell from below caught their attention.

"You idiots up there on cart three! You bloody fuckers have a death wish?! The rules say no shaking the carts, dumbasses!"

Harry felt his cheeks heat up at the reprimand, sensing several sets of eyes on them. He looked down towards the sound, bowing his head at the incensed Ferris wheel operator in apology. "Sorry! It won't happen again, sir!"

"If it happens again I'll drag your asses down here and kill you myself!"

Harry tucked himself back into the compartment, crossing his arms against his chest to still himself.

"Ha!"

He glared at the smirking Slytherin right across him. "What?"

"Now we're even." Pansy grinned. He'd given her hell for getting them kicked out of the bump cars last week, but since his stupid stint just got them yelled at, they were basically in the same boat. Besides, it wasn't her fault those muggle kids were weak. She snorted. Those brats wouldn't survive a day with her mother.

The ride ended with both of them hurriedly stepping out and away from the Ferris wheel as the operator glared daggers at them.

"Just one more ride and we're done." Harry called out tiredly.

Pansy folded her arms on her chest, eying the rest of the rundown booths and uninspired entertainment of the small carnival. She didn't understand why they had to relocate to another area for today. They were just kicked out of _one_ ride in the amusement park, not the entire place. She rolled her eyes. She didn't understand what he was so embarrassed about.

Harry gave out their tickets to the attendant as he stepped up into the carousel, feeling a bit too big for the colorful ride. He heard the sound of Pansy's heels as she stalked towards him from behind. He sighed. Why did she always have to wear stilettos?

He watched her glare at the plastic stallion, scrunching her nose in disgust. She circled around the animal, inspecting it with a pinched expression. When he saw her open her mouth, he beat her to it. "We need to get on before the ride starts." He offered her his hand to help her up, but she ignored it.

Pansy grumbled as she pulled herself up against the foul smelling steed. She needed to remember to burn her dress the moment she gets home. She watched him climb up the horse right next to her, only then realizing that they were the only patrons of the ridiculous attraction.

"See, Potter? Even muggles think this is lame!" She gestured at the entirety of the empty ride, throwing him an annoyed look. They were two grown ass adults sitting on rainbow colored ponies that would soon be spinning around under glittering lights, surrounded by the sound of childish tunes blasting on speakers. She shook her head. This was stupid!

The only consolation she had was that no one she knew would ever be caught dead here. She huffed. At least her reputation was safe.

Pansy turned her gaze back at him when the ride started turning, ready to fire another insult when the sight of him smiling with utmost glee caught her off guard. His gaze darted all over the place, eyes wide and unblinking, as if the experience was so surreal he didn't want to miss a moment of it.

The look on his face was so open, so innocent, that it reminded her of Christmas morning just before the opening of presents. She snorted.

Why the hell was he so happy?

Pansy blinked at the odd sensation in her chest, glaring down at it in confusion. Did her heart just…? She blinked a few more times. No, that couldn't be right. She shook her head, slamming a fisted hand against it a couple of times.

"What on earth are you doing, Parkinson?" Harry eyed her oddly; gaze shifting between her fist and her face.

She looked away, allowing herself a few more hits before bringing her fingers back onto the handlebar of the smelly plastic horse. "It's just a fact check moment for myself, Potter. Ignore it."

* * *

Hermione glared at the older man sitting right in front of her; arms folded, gaze unwavering. The huge silver hoops that hung from his ears glittered under the light of the candles; his bare chest littered with all kinds of trinkets. He was wearing something similar to a sarong, but Hermione couldn't be sure. It was too dark to tell. She huffed.

She really shouldn't have been surprised. After the theme of their last two dates, she had a feeling this was coming. But just because she predicted it didn't mean it made things easier.

"So, decided on what service you want, honey?"

Hermione raised a brow at the smiling man, fighting the urge to snort. When the portkey Malfoy brought along landed them back at The Astrology Shop, she expected they were there for purchasing purposes. Little did she know that it actually housed a second level that offered other services.

"We have several spreads for you to choose from, darling. We can-"

"Give me the shortest course." Hermione cut him off, flipping her hand out in nonchalance.

"Forgive her, Guru Jai. She's a nonbeliever."

Hermione snapped her head towards the blonde sitting by the corner of the room, watching him bow at the guru with his hands pressed together in prayer. She blinked. What the fuck? "You guys know each other?" She shifted her gaze between both men.

"Guru Jai has been most enlightening." Draco pressed a palm against his heart as he smiled politely at the older man.

"Draco dropped by a few days ago and inquired about my readings." The guru smiled as he flipped the tresses of his long black hair with the back of his hand.

Draco smirked at the look of disbelief he got from the bushy haired woman, utterly speechless. Back when they had planned their run in with Lovegood at the store, he remembered seeing a huge flyer plastered against the window of the shop, advertising their services. He ran back to check a few days ago, getting acquainted with the hippy guru. The older man was grandiose, bodacious, and absolutely narcissistic. He grinned. He was perfect!

"I ask for your patience, Guru Jai." Draco brought his palms together once again, pressing the tip of his fingers against his lowered forehead.

"It's alright, Draco, honey." Guru Jai mimicked the gesture, smiling at him sweetly. "I adore nonbelievers." He looked back at Hermione with a hooded gaze. "I like challenges."

Hermione raised a brow at the statement, ready to argue when Malfoy called out her name. He said nothing, only looking at her pointedly to remind her of her assignment. She let out a sigh.

She had to go through one round of tarot card reading with her Occlumency walls intact. She clicked her tongue. "I'd like the shortest course, please."

"The shortest course is a three-card spread. It is usually employed to guide oneself during chaotic experiences." Guru Jai began. "But if I may suggest-"

"A three-card reading is fine." Hermione cut him off, not allowing herself to be sales talked into anything. The sooner the charade was over, the sooner she could walk away from this charlatan.

"A three-card spread it is." Guru Jai responded through a tight smile, clearly not happy with being spoken over. "Each card is a symbol for something that is currently happening in your life. The first one is a representation of what you can do to surrender to the change in your life. The second offers direction on caring for yourself during this process. The third serves as a guide for centering yourself in the midst of this change."

Hermione fought the urge to roll her eyes; several questions ready to drop right out of her mouth. This was stupid. No, _more_ than stupid! Everything about this screamed fake, like one of those networking companies in the muggle world. She scoffed. How on earth could anyone believe something like this?

She watched the guru shuffle the deck, pulling three out in sequence as he lay each gently on the table to form a row. He placed the stack back to his side, moving the fingers of his hand theatrically towards the first card.

"Remember, this one tells what you can do to accept the change that is currently happening in your life." Guru Jai flipped the card slowly, arching a brow at the image that greeted him. "The Hermit. And it's upright."

Hermione wanted to snort at the practiced reaction. "What about it?"

"The Hermit, when upright, represents soul searching, introspection, and inner guidance. It tells you that these are the things you need to practice in order to better accept the situations in your life that are gradually changing."

"Of course. That makes perfect sense, Guru Jai."

Draco pursed his lips to fight off a chuckle at the sound of her reply. It was courteous and even, but it had an edge of rebelliousness in it that was so distinctly Granger. He shook his head. Was she even trying to occlude?

Undeterred, Guru Jai placed one hand over another, stacking them over his lap as he crossed his legs. "A part of you feels hopeless… Lost. As if your life is growing stagnant and you don't know what to do about it. No matter how hard you try, you can't seem to find what you're looking for."

Hermione failed to hide the look of surprise on her face.

"You need to stop looking for answers in all the wrong places. Sometimes, that which we seek is already within us. All we need to do is look deeper." Guru Jai smiled at the stunned woman before him, waving a hand towards the first flipped card dramatically. "Thus, The Hermit."

Hermione straightening her posture on the chair further, not allowing herself to fall for the flamboyant man's act. "And the second one?"

Guru Jai moved his fingers over to the middle card, revealing it instantly. "The Devil in reverse." He smirked. "It tells you that in order to take care of yourself, you need to release limiting beliefs, explore your darkest thoughts, and refrain from detachment."

Hermione felt herself swallow at the advice.

"To connect it with The Hermit earlier, The Devil is once again asking you to look within. We can not grow if we always operate under clear cut rules and delineations. We can not be whole if we only look towards the good, ignoring the bad completely. Without darkness, there is no light. And we can not know and accept who we truly are, if we are afraid to delve into the recesses of our mind that carry the darkest aspects of our soul."

Hermione was silent now, unable to find even a single rebuttal to the guru's statements.

"There is no such thing as absolute good, and absolute evil. There is always a bit of both in everyone." Guru Jai smiled at the speechless woman, winking at the stunned expression on her face.

"Now onto the last one. That which serves as a guide for centering yourself in the midst of change." He flipped the third card, gasping ecstatically at the result. "The Lovers, upright!" He brought a hand to his heart. "The Lovers, when upright, symbolizes love, harmony, relationships, values alignment, and choices. It tells you that the people around you will be the key to keeping you grounded throughout these challenging times. So make sure to surround yourself with those who care about you, and love you for who you are."

Hermione finally allowed herself to look down at the cards, taking note of their distinct aesthetics in silence.

"That was a wonderful reading!" Guru Jai clasped his hands together; eyes glazing over as he stared at her in awe. "I wish you all the best, Hermione, darling."

Hermione looked up at the smiling guru, nodding her response. She honestly had no idea what the hell just happened, but everything the older man said resonated with her. She swallowed her disbelief. That couldn't be right. There had to be some sort of trick to it.

"Would you like a reading as well, Draco, honey?"

Hermione had forgotten for a moment that the Malfoy heir was sitting just a few paces away. "He hasn't gotten a reading yet?" At the shake of the guru's head, she sent a surreptitious smirk at Malfoy before smiling brightly at the long-haired man. "Perfect! We have time for another one then!"

Draco wanted to politely decline, but there was nothing he could say that wouldn't offend the longtime guru. At Granger's insistence, they swapped chairs in the next second. He watched Guru Jai line up three new facedown cards on the table, flipping the first one without warning.

"The Fool!" The guru cheered in glee.

Draco snapped his head to glare at the bushy haired Gryffindor when he heard the sound of muffled laughter from her side of the room.

"Despite what it stands for, The Fool in tarot doesn't have the same meaning as the word in its literal sense." Guru Jai chuckled when he noticed their exchange. He eyed the blonde man's posture against the chair – arms crossed, gaze suspicious, and face schooled into an impassive expression – still chuckling softly to himself as he waved a graceful hand over the card.

"The Fool upright tells you that in order to surrender to the changes in your life, you need to accept new beginnings. Start fresh. Look at the world through the eyes of an innocent child, unprejudiced and untainted. The Fool is the symbol of a free spirit. It calls upon spontaneity! Instead of focusing on every single detail, running every possible scenario, you need to just… let things happen. You need to learn to _let go_."

Draco glanced down at the card, before drawing his gaze back up to the smiling guru. He looked away. That piece of advice hit a little too close to home.

Guru Jai sighed at him knowingly, running his fingers down his silky hair before moving to flip the second card. "The Hanged Man, upright." He paused, taking a moment to consider his words. "In order to care for yourself, you need to surrender. You need to let go of things that are weighing you down. The past isn't going to change no matter how much you will it to. No matter how much you agonize over it. The Hanged Man is here to tell you that it's time to move on. It's time to let in new perspectives. It's time to open yourself up to things you once remained closed to."

Draco was gaping at the older man now, utterly speechless. How on earth was any of this possible? He looked down at the lined up cards on the table, trying to figure out the trick behind them. Perhaps there was magic involved?

Guru Jai chuckled at Draco's obvious disbelief, turning over the last card as he shook his head. "Oh my! The Lovers, upright!" He cheered in surprise, clapping at the result.

Draco's eyes darted to the lone female in the room, only to see that she was already looking his way. He turned back towards the cards immediately, clearing his throat to release some bit of tension.

"Like I mentioned earlier, The Lovers, when upright, is all about love, harmony, relationships, values alignment, and choices. Just like Hermione, you need to surround yourself with people who care for you, and love you for who you are. They will keep you grounded and supported throughout all your chosen endeavors. They will not let you down."

Guru Jai grinned as he shifted his gaze back and forth between his two clients, not missing the way their eyes sought one another at the sight of The Lovers card. "Ah to be young again…" He whispered longingly, as he rested his chin against the palm of his hand.

Draco cleared his throat once again, standing up to button the jacket of his suit. "We appreciate your readings, Guru Jai." He called out, feeling the urge to bolt out of the room as soon as possible. The weird feeling in his chest was back, amplified further by the darkness of the room and the warmth emitted by the candles. He swallowed. It felt suffocating.

Guru Jai blinked at the bowed prayer the blonde man offered him, noticing that it was the first instance it hadn't been done it in jest. He chuckled. He knew the handsome man was a nonbeliever from the start, so to see him now with his gray eyes reflecting some level of respect… he couldn't be more flattered.

"Thank you, Guru Jai."

The curt bow from the bushy haired woman, accompanied by pressed hands in front of her, made the longhaired guru place a hand against his chest. "Why you're most welcome, darling." He smiled at them sweetly as he watched them leave the room.

Guru Jai sighed in content as he began to pack up his cards, still beaming at the wonderful encounter. What an adorable couple they were!

* * *

"Excuse me, what did you say?" Hermione blinked at the middle-aged woman manning the cash register, not believing what she just heard. "How much did you say the services cost?"

"Two hundred pounds, lady." The cashier reiterated, too busy filing her nails to spare the customers a glance.

"That can't be right." Hermione tried to look for the prices in the flyer with Guru Jai's list of services, but there were none.

"Look…" The woman sighed. "They just tell me the cost, and I just get the cash, alright? If you have complaints, you can walk up to Jai and-"

"No need." Draco dropped 250 pounds onto the table. "A little extra for the guru."

Hermione looked at him in disbelief as he pulled her out of the store, seeing the cashier stuff the extra 50 pounds in her pocket just as they stepped out of the door. "Unbelievable." She muttered to herself as Malfoy started to walk away. She looked at his retreating back tiredly, trying her best to let go of the desire to argue before following after him in silence. She was nearly an arm's reach away when he turned around abruptly, startling her with his sudden movement.

"Just spit it out, Granger. You not saying anything is just as loud as you actually saying something."

Hermione huffed, placing both her hands on her hips. "Malfoy, a Galleon costs roughly five pounds. You basically just paid 50 Galleons to someone who gave us fifteen, max twenty minutes of his time, reading a bunch of drawn out cards with preordained interpretations."

Draco scrunched his eyebrows at the unnecessary information. "And?"

"And…" She crossed her arms on her chest, thinking of chastising him for not understanding the value of money, but she decided on something else entirely. "Isn't your Gringotts account frozen?"

Draco felt his blood chill all the way down to his bones. How could he have forgotten? He was _poor_ now! He was completely cut off from his trust, and at this point, he was basically living on Blaise and Theo's donations! He closed his eyes for a second, mentally cursing himself. How could he have been so careless?!

"What a total rip off!" He yelled out loud, glancing down at the Gryffindor standing right in front of him with wide eyes.

"Wasn't it?!" Hermione added, chucking a hand at him in agreement. "All he did was pull out a couple of stupid cards and then _woosh_! He took 200 bloody pounds! Fucking insane!"

Draco sputtered in the air a few times, too shocked by the reminder of his lowered socioeconomic status that it made it difficult for him to string along anything coherent. "What a load of bullocks!" He settled on instead, still looking down at Granger in disbelief. "Who does that?!"

"A charlatan!" Hermione snapped back, pissed that she allowed herself to fall for the guru's charms. No matter how she looked at it, none of it made sense.

"Were we tricked?"

Hermione grit her teeth, not wanting to answer that question. She huffed, deciding to stomp her annoyance off by the sidewalk.

"Granger, were we tricked?!"

She rolled her eyes at the sight of him chasing after her. "I don't know, Malfoy!" She clicked her tongue, not wanting to admit it to herself. "Maybe…" She whispered just away from earshot.

"I am _never_ going back there ever again!"

Hermione watched him mutter his complaints to himself, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he trudged heavily through the streets. She pursed her lips, fighting the overwhelming urge to laugh. He looked like a kid who just got told he couldn't get more candy.

"What are _you_ laughing at?"

"Nothing. Just that you got tricked."

Draco raised a brow at the statement, stopping himself in his tracks to argue his point. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Granger, and I'm sure I'm not, but didn't you offer the _charlatan_ a bow of thanks?"

Hermione felt her face burn, annoyed at having been reminded of that gesture. "Well-" She scoured her brain quickly for a decent comeback. "You were the one who picked his shop!"

"You were the one who insisted I get a reading too!"

"You were the one who decided to pay 200 pounds, plus 50 extra!"

Draco groaned, fighting the urge to pull at his hair. Fuck they've been tricked! No, _he'd_ been tricked! _Shit_! He clicked his tongue in frustration. Damn it all to bloody _hell_!

"He probably had those cards readied. He just pretended to pull them out or something." Hermione muttered to herself as she began to walk away, still unable to let the whole thing go. She must have missed something. The room was shrouded in darkness after all. There had to be some kind of trick to it. There had to be!

Draco sneered, falling into step with her. "Probably practiced all his fake reactions in front of a bloody mirror, too."

She snorted at this. _"That was a wonderful reading!"_ She tried her best to copy the older man's pretentious intonation, flipping her hair back as she spoke. _"I wish you all the best, Hermione, darling."_

He sputtered out a laugh at this. _"You need to surround yourself with people who care for you, and love you for who you are."_ He mocked as well, swirling his hands out flamboyantly, making her laugh along with him.

"Argh!" She let out a growl, stomping her foot on the ground at the injustice of it all. "What an ass."

"A complete and utter tosser." He nodded his head in agreement. "I hope he goes bald."

"He probably already is. He was wearing a wig after all." She watched him gape at her in disbelief. "What?"

"That was a wig?!"

"You didn't realize?"

"Well it was dark and-Damn it! Was anything about him real?!"

Hermione shrugged as she folded her arms on her chest, still pissed at the whole thing. She replayed the entire scene in her head once again, hoping to find some kind of hint. There had to be something in her memory she could use to expose the flamboyant guru. "Hey, you think that whole 'you got the same card thing' was also a trick of his?"

Draco turned to look at her, recalling how their eyes met the moment his last card had been revealed. He cleared his throat. "You mean, The Lovers?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "It seemed like the perfect ending, regardless of whatever kind of reading it is. Think about it. Anyone would be moved if they were told that their loved ones would be there for them no matter what right?"

Draco blinked at this. Well, shit. She had a point. He let out a breath, shaking his head in utter incredulity. Had it all been a lie?

Hermione chuckled to herself as she watched him agonize over the entire experience once again. "I can't believe I fell for it." She sighed out loud in disappointment. Brightest witch of her age, indeed.

"I can't believe you fell for it either."

"Hey, you did too!" Hermione glared at him, only to see him smirking down at her with amusement dancing in his eyes. She blinked. Was that meant to be a joke?

"Ah shit! I totally fell for it!" Draco yelled in the air, endlessly shaking his head at the crazy turn of events.

"Yeah, you totally fell for it." She grinned at him as he glared down at her with pursed lips that almost looked like he was fighting a smile.

"We're idiots." They echoed simultaneously; eyes widening at each other for a second before bursting out in laughter at the sheer absurdity of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I am not a tarot card reader, and I have no real knowledge of the craft. I just read up on it prior to writing that scene and watched a few videos to get a better idea (and oh dear Merlin there were so many cards lol). So to all my readers who practice tarot, if my interpretations were wrong... I apologize T.T I'd love to hear your thoughts as well (please be kind :p)
> 
> Also, I've decided to increase the total number of chapters. It's now 30 because I keep getting backlogged. In all honesty, I don't get why I'm so bad at estimating chapter content. There's always something left behind that I need to carry over onto the next every time I start writing it out :(
> 
> Long fics are so hard lol! I swear this story won't go over 30 chapters! Trust me when I say I really wanna finish this story soon T.T
> 
> Anyway, this update now holds the title of 'longest chapter'! Maybe because I had so much fun writing it (^_^) I hope you guys had just as much fun reading it :)
> 
> Until next time! A kudos and comment would be appreciated ^^


	22. Change

"Tobi!" Draco clicked his tongue, annoyed that the elf still hadn't come. He's been calling for the magical creature to bring him a new bottle of firewhiskey for the past ten minutes now. What could have gotten him so– He pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd forgotten that today was a Sunday, the elf's designated day off. He sighed, grabbing onto the empty bottle of firewhiskey before pushing himself off his makeshift bed.

He rubbed the weariness out of his eyes, maneuvering around in the dark blindly when his hip collided with one of the cauldrons in his room. He cursed out loud, kicking a foot against the metal, annoyed at it for standing in his way. He grumbled as he pushed past the door, making his way through the dimly lit halls. He just wanted some sleep for crying out loud! Why did he have to run out of alcohol now of all times?

He made it out of the help's quarters, passing through the main foyer of the manor to head to the kitchens, when a stream of light coming from the door of the west wing parlor caught his eye. He stopped in his tracks, confused as to why it was lit. The west wing of the manor was mainly used to entertain guests, but after their family's fall from grace, it hadn't been used in years.

Draco made his way towards the door, eying the ray of light seeping out through the gaps. He could hear voices coming from the room, but the muddled quality made them difficult to decipher. He moved his hand towards the knob, turning it slowly, careful not to make a noise. He nudged it slightly, just enough for the voices to seep through more clearly.

"I can't believe I've gotten so old, Anne. 'Where did all the time go?', I always wonder. I don't feel like I've grown at all. Sometimes I feel like a stranger in my own skin."

Draco blinked at the sound of his mother's voice. Who was she talking too? As far as he knew, she didn't have a friend named Anne.

"How did I get so old?"

He heard his mother laugh, but it seemed forced and hollow. A deeper chuckle cut through the air, making him strain his ears. It wasn't a voice he's heard before, but there was something about it that seemed… familiar.

"Are you trying to pick a fight by making me feel older?"

His mother's laugh was back, but this time there was a warmth to it – a strange affection he hasn't heard from her in a long while.

"No, I'm not… I swear!"

"I maybe an old lady now, but I can still kick your ass, Cissy."

Draco felt his heart race. It couldn't be. There was only one person who referred to his mother that way. But… Bellatrix was dead. And the tone of the other woman's voice was different. There was no way– He blinked. Putting the rest of the pieces together. Could it be that she was…?

"Anne, I know you might hate me for saying this, but… you look… _exactly_ like mother. When I first saw you a few weeks ago, I honestly thought I was seeing her ghost."

"…So you really are picking a fight."

"No, I'm really not! I promise!"

This was the first time in a long time Draco's heard so much emotion in his mother's voice. He's never heard her sound so… young. An ungraceful snort reached his ears, no doubt from the other woman in the room. His mother would never be caught dead expressing herself in such an uncouth manner.

"Now that we're both old hags, you won't show your older sister anymore respect, huh?"

Now he was sure. The other woman in the room was his mother's banished older sister, Andromeda Tonks. He blinked. Since when were they back on speaking terms? 

"At least I'm not a raging alcoholic like mother. I can count in one hand all the times I've seen her without a drink in her hand."

Draco felt himself swallow at the sound of his mother's affirmative hum. He glanced down at the empty bottle of firewhiskey in his hand, feeling a rush of shame creep through him.

"Sometimes… Sometimes I see her in Draco."

He held his breath. Feeling his heart stutter at his mother's quiet claim.

"When I see him staring blankly at the fireplace with a drink in his hand… I just–" 

Draco pulled the door shut gingerly, not ready to hear what his mother was about to say. He turned around to walk away, leaving the empty bottle on one of the side tables by the foyer before heading back to his room.

* * *

Hermione sighed at the sight of the Snowy owl perched outside her window, tapping his beak against the glass, asking to be let in. She groaned, moving towards him to undo the latch that kept him out, allowing him to fly into her living room. She opened the tube attached to his leg, pulling out a rolled piece of paper that immediately reverted to its original size. She rolled her eyes.

_Spotted once again! Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy enjoy a carefree stroll down muggle London!_

She chucked The Prophet onto the growing pile of newspapers by her coffee table, offering the white bird a few snacks before letting him out through the same window. As if on cue, a familiar brown owl swooped into her flat, dropping a rolled piece of paper to the floor before flying right back out. She didn't even need to look at the parcel to know what it was – one of Rita Skeeter's tabloids.

She didn't know what Harry and Ginny were trying to achieve by sending her news reports of her dates with Malfoy. How they never managed to send her the exact same paper, she had no idea. Were they in cahoots? She clicked her tongue. It seemed they were back to their old dynamic. How on earth they managed to revert to it after everything they've been through, she didn't have the slightest clue.

Hermione ran a hand through her face, grabbing the tabloid off the floor to spread it out on the coffee table. The picture that greeted her made her sit down slowly onto the couch.

It had been taken right after they left the Astrology Shop, walking side by side along the pathway. The image of them looking at each other with grins on their faces before laughing out loud made her blink. Had they been standing that close? Had he been looking at her like that? Had _she_ been looking at him like that? Were they really smiling at each other like… like… they actually enjoyed one another's company?

She shook her head. The person who took the photograph obviously picked out the best moment of their date. She was pretty sure they were at each other's throats just minutes prior. How they eventually ended up laughing at the whole thing, she couldn't begin to comprehend. She remembered catching herself the moment the portkey signaled it was time to head back home.

Her gaze swept across the scattered newspapers, taking note of the rest of their photos. The image of her laughing while Malfoy grumbled against old Har met her gaze. It had probably been taken during his first few losses before she eventually grew aggravated of his competitiveness. Right next to it was a photo of him grinning at her while her eyes stayed glued to her game on the chess board. She blinked. Did his eyes always twinkle that way? Or perhaps it was just the light of the sun?

She continued to scan through the rest of the photos. Him opening the door to Honeydukes for her while he smiled. Him wiping the snow off her hair before replacing the knitted hat back on her head. Him holding onto her wrist at the Quidditch match; gray eyes burning with intensity. Him grinning down at her by the food cart while he pointed at the doughnuts. Him leaning against one of the bookshelves at Flourish and Blotts, smirking at her as she scanned the row of books.

She sifted through the every piece of paper, surprised to find that Malfoy had been smiling in almost every photo that hadn't been taken from behind. She snorted. She had to hand it to the paparazzi. They knew exactly when to time their shots.

Her eyes went back to their photo by the sidewalk, watching as it replayed the scene of their laughter over and over. She turned her attention to Malfoy's face, surprised to see it so… open. Since when did his eyes crinkle when he smiled? And was that a small dimple on the side of his cheek? She folded her arms on her chest. Maybe he was just that good of an actor.

The memory of her waking up tucked neatly into bed the night of their first Occlumency lesson took her by surprise. The feel of being carried, slid under warm covers, followed by gentle fingers threading through her hair made her blink. Why was she recalling that again, now of all times? She was sure it had to be some sort of memory discrepancy because there was no way in hell that Malfoy would… Well, he certainly wasn't the type to… There was really no reason for that kind of…

Hermione huffed, waving her wand over the newspapers, shrinking them enough to make them fit in one hand. She moved towards the fireplace, ready to throw everything into the flames when a strange feeling of hesitancy hit her.

Why didn't she want to throw them in? They were just a bunch of lies crafted by the gossip hungry media. There was no point in keeping them in her flat. None of it was real anyway. It was all just an act.

She stared down at the papers in her hand; eyes landing on the image of them laughing once again. Maybe… maybe she could keep them for a bit? Well… until she could finally call Harry and Ginny out on them, of course. She needed proof if she was going to berate them for being petty. She nodded. She needed evidence.

Hermione slid the tiny slips of paper off her palm, positioning them onto the top of the fireplace right next to the pouch of floo powder. She would keep them… for now.

* * *

"Mint?"

"Shut up, Potter."

Harry grinned sheepishly at the nauseous Slytherin sitting right beside him on one of the amusement park benches. She had her eyes closed and her breathing regulated, trying her best not to hurl.

"Mint helps I swear." He flinched when her hand grabbed the candy off his fingers. He watched her unwrap it quickly, tossing it into her mouth in an instant. He saw her shoulders visibly relax after several seconds.

"I know I've said it so many times, but muggles are fucking crazy." Pansy rolled her eyes at the sound of his chuckling. "Who in the right mind would create something designed to make you vomit?" She pointed at the gaudy looking huge ship swaying back and forth repeatedly. "It's stupid!"

"It's fun." Harry shrugged, eying The Vikings ride they just went on.

"Next you're going to tell me that muggles invented an attraction that makes you fall to your death!"

"Actually…" Harry grinned at the look of disbelief she sent his way. "That's our next stop. It's called The Drop."

"The Drop." She echoed monotonously.

"The Drop." He reiterated with a couple of nods, amused by the irritated look on her face. "We go up a certain height, and then they drop us down to the ground. The ride'll catch us of course, just before we hit the floor."

"Oh! Really?" Came Pansy's bright mocking tone. "Well that certainly makes me feel so much better, Potter!"

Harry shrugged, pushing himself off the bench before tilting his head towards the commercial district of the theme park. "We need to stop by somewhere first."

Pansy stood up, brushing her hands down the front of her black dress. "Where?"

"You'll see." He started walking away, but not before calling her over once again.

Pansy rolled her eyes, but stalked after him nonetheless. There were more people this time around compared to the last time they'd been. It seemed amusement parks were something muggle families frequented. It must have been some sort of tradition. Perhaps a rite of passage for something? She eyed the carefree smiles of parents and the boisterous laughter of children, surprised to note how different their dynamics were compared to wizarding families.

"We're here."

Pansy eyed the souvenir shop, raising a brow at the Gryffindor holding the door open for her. "Potter, I'm telling you now that there isn't a single thing in there worthy of my money." She flinched when she felt his hand on her back, nudging her into the store.

"You can't ride The Drop in a skirt, Parkinson."

Pansy eyed the garish muggle clothing that met her gaze with downright revulsion. They were an assortment of printed shirts, flowery skirts and all kinds of trousers. For once, she was completely and utterly speechless.

Harry raised his brows in inquiry at the look she was sending him. "What? You have to change. We can't use magic to make your dress stick. It'll be too conspicuous."

"I'm not wearing these… these…" She still couldn't find the words. She moved to grab one of the jeans off the rack, shoving it onto his face. "Whatever the hell these are!" Her gaze landed onto a similar item with a hem much shorter than the one already in her hand. "What is this even?!"

"Those are denims. They come in all lengths and styles. Skirts, pants, shorts." He shrugged. "It's a staple in muggle wardrobe."

Pansy placed the hanger back onto the rack, grabbing a tattered mini skirt off a shelf. She lined it up against her hips to prove a point. "You see this, Potter? Do you see this? What is the point of even wearing clothes? Why not just head out in underwear?"

"It's fashion." He shrugged again.

"It's improper!" She argued, shoving the tiny cloth back where it belonged. "Are you're trying to mess with me, Potter?"

"I'm not!"

"Then why are you making me wear something so unladylike?!" She folded her arms across her chest. "Women shouldn't wear such manly clothing, and they certainly shouldn't wear something so revealing!"

The image of Hermione's indignant face made Harry chuckle to himself. He could only imagine his best friend's rebuttal to Parkinson's statement. "Did you know that muggle women actually fought for the right to wear pants?"

"What?"

"Back in the day, muggle women only wore dresses and skirts, just like in the wizarding world. If a female went out wearing trousers, she would be fined or worse, jailed. It was around the 19th century that women started fighting against the law banning them from wearing pants. For muggle women, it became a symbol of power, equality, and freedom from physical, social and moral restrictions."

Pansy blinked at the information, raising a brow in suspicion. "And you know that how?"

"Hermione." He shrugged. "She would talk about it whenever someone in the wizarding world would call her out for wearing jeans." He chuckled. He'd lost count of all the times the bushy haired witch argued against a misogynistic stranger. "As for the shorts and skirts, well, muggles are free to express themselves in whichever way they want with clothes."

"Is that so…"

Harry blinked at the Slytherin's quiet resignation. "You're not going to argue?"

"If it's from Granger, then I'm at least assured it's been fact checked." She rolled her eyes, ignoring the offended look on the Gryffindor's face. She eyed the rack full of denims, swiping one clothing article after another.

"Just try it. If you hate it so much, then at least you can say for sure that you do." Harry shrugged as he watched her finally start to peruse the clothes with a discerning eye. "You can wear it to The Drop, then change back to your dress right after."

Pansy continued to ignore his reasoning, focusing on inspecting the denim jeans in front of her. She's seen them more than a couple of times in her secretary's magazines. She would never admit it out loud, but given the right cloth and cut, trousers looked amazingly well on a woman's figure. She hummed. Those images, plus the idea of fighting against societal constraints… were starting to intrigue her.

"Fine." Came her begrudging tone. "On one condition."

Harry perked up at the unexpected development. He didn't think she would change her mind. "What?"

* * *

"You can't be fucking serious, Potter."

Harry blinked at the image of Parkinson in medium-wash flared jeans, sporting a tucked in crisp white shirt with a roller coaster print. He glanced down his torso in disbelief, not sure what to say exactly.

Pansy slammed the shop's door shut, glaring at the matching shirts they both had on. When she raised the condition that he wear something from the store to accompany her in her misery, she certainly didn't expect them to pick the same design.

"Change it!"

"I can't." Harry shook his head. "I already wore it."

"Then buy another one!" Pansy chucked a hand in the air in irritation.

"It'd be a waste of money." He crossed his arms on his chest, holding his ground. "Besides, why do I have to change? I was out here first."

"Fine! Pick another one. I'll pay."

"But I like this design. You change."

"This is the only fractionally decent option in that entire shop, Potter! Your fashion sense is already abysmal as it is! You change!"

"No."

Pansy sputtered as she watched him walk away. Oh no the fuck he didn't. "Potter, get your bloody ass back here! Don't you walk away from me! Hey! _Hey_!"

Harry ignored the click of heels running after him as he power walked all the way towards their next ride. He grinned. For once, he was glad Parkinson always wore stilettos. That way she couldn't keep up with him that easily.

He was at The Drop before she could catch him.

Pansy grumbled to herself as she stood in line, ignoring the side glances the annoying Gryffindor sent her way. She couldn't believe he outsmarted her once again! One of these days she was seriously going to hex him.

"Oh no, Rebecca!"

Pansy turned her head towards the sound, seeing a little girl crying on the ground as her parents ran towards her. She snorted. Stumbling in front of all these people? Oh that little girl was going to get it now.

Pansy watched in surprise as the girl's mother picked her up off the floor gently, talking to her with a warm soothing tone. Her father then pulled her up all the way onto his chest, tapping a hand against her back in comfort. She felt her lips part in disbelief.

The little girl obviously caused a scene in front of all these people. It was clearly very embarrassing for them as a family, so… Why didn't they scold her?

(Flashback)

_"How could you make such a fool out of yourself?! And during such an important celebration at that! I've told you time and again that this is one you can not fail in! This was the perfect opportunity to align yourself with people of importance!"_

_Pansy kept her gaze straight onto a clock by the wall, not bothering to spare her mother a glance. She was in another one of her moods, it seemed. It's been ten minutes and she still hasn't simmered down._

_"Now what will your classmates think of you on the first day of school?! That you're a klutz! Tripping on the hem of your dress, Pansy?! How is that even possible?! Why can't you do anything right?! I invest so much money to raise you into a proper lady! I've told you time and again that you need to be graceful!"_

_Pansy could see her mother line herself up against her, blocking her view of the time, messing with her countdown._

_"How many times do I have to tell you, Pansy? You're not pretty! Not particularly smart or talented! So you have to make up for it in poise! Are you even listening to me?!"_

_Pansy stayed silent, keeping her chin up in the air defiantly._

_"Does it make you happy, huh, Pansy? Giving me this much suffering? Does it bring you joy?"_

_Pansy finally looked back at her mother; a cold smirk crawling up the edge of her lips. "Yes. Seeing your bloated face all blotchy and garish is the highlight of my life, moth-"_

_A hand landed against her cheek before she could finish her sentence._

_(End of flashback)_

"Parkinson!"

Pansy turned around at the sound of her name, seeing Potter standing on top of a small flight of stairs.

"It's our turn." He eyed her oddly, noticing her disoriented gaze. "Are you alright?"

Pansy made her way up, sending him a dubious glance. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

* * *

Draco ran a hand through his hair as he followed the usher who directed him towards the restaurant's corner table. He was fifteen minutes ahead of time, but he knew he needed a moment to collect himself before the date began. He scanned the intimate setting with narrowed eyes, glaring down at the roses and tiny floating candles sitting on the middle of the table. He clicked his tongue.

This was exactly what he was trying to avoid.

When Blaise dropped by the manor a couple of days ago informing him of Amos Diggory's reservation at Slither In, he had no choice but to use it to his advantage. The old man was currently one of the most active members of The Order of the Phoenix. Making an appearance like this was strategic. It made perfect sense. He groaned.

It didn't mean he had to like it.

He's been at his wits end for the last couple of weeks, trying to decipher the best plan of action regarding his… disposition towards Granger. Every single time he felt like he had a handle on the situation, something unexpected would always come up, throwing him in for a loop.

What surprised him the most was his inability to stay in character. Why was it so hard for him to formulate comebacks and insults when it's never been that difficult before? Why was it that he would forget even the most basic information about his plan whenever she was within sight? And why the hell was it so easy for him to lose his cool around her? He ran a frustrated hand over his face.

He seriously needed to get his shit together.

"Mr. Malfoy? Miss Granger has arrived."

Draco nodded curtly at the waitress, thanking her politely. He turned his head towards the direction she gestured at, forgetting how to breathe entirely.

He watched Granger walk down the flight of marble stairs clad in a burgundy cocktail dress; the gold of her heels shining reflectively against the crystal lights. Her hair was up in a graceful bun; soft curls cradling the sides of her face, swaying as she moved. His eyes trailed down her face, stopping on her lips, roving across her exposed shoulders before gliding back to her neck. She was pulling against a thin gold necklace that hung right onto the middle of her collar bones. He swallowed. The growing tightness in his chest reminded him he needed to breathe.

Wait. Was it inhale-exhale, or the other way around?

Her eyes landed on his, jolting him out of his trance instantly. The shot of electricity down his spine made him bolt up in attention, ramming his thighs against the edge of the table. He grit his teeth to hold down the pain, watching as her eyes widened in surprise before it turned into… panic? She was rushing towards him now, pointing at something in front of him.

Draco glanced down the table, blinking at the small fire that met his gaze. Wait… what? He continued to stare at the burning roses; his brain taking its sweet time trying to decipher the urgency needed of him.

"What are you doing?!" Hermione called out, flipping her wand towards the table to extinguish the flames. She eyed him incredulously as he looked back up at her with wide eyes. "The table was literally on fire! Why didn't you do anything?!"

Draco looked back at the scorched roses; the white table cloth under them now blackened by the flames. Did they fall down onto the candles when he bumped against the table? He blinked. How could he have missed it? What the hell was wrong with him?

"Ma'am, sir, are you alright?"

A waitress was next to them in an instant, vanishing the mess with a quick wave of her wand. She assured them it was no trouble at all, and that she was glad they were unhurt.

Hermione eyed him oddly as they settled down onto their refurbished table. What was wrong with him this time? Was he occluding again? She scanned his face, noticing a faint tinge of pink on his cheeks. No, it didn't seem like he was. His eyes were on anywhere else but her, busying himself with whatever he could get his hands on – sipping his water, rearranging his cutlery, fixing his cuff links.

She rolled her tongue in her mouth, pursing her lips to hold in the laughter threatening to spill out of her chest. Was he embarrassed?

Draco glared at the expression on her face, feeling his humiliation increase tenfold. He clicked his tongue, leaning the side of his face onto his palm as he looked away. "Go ahead." He rolled his eyes at the questioning hum he heard from her.

"Laugh."

Hermione bowed her head down, losing it as quietly as she could. She chanced a glance at him, noticing the redness of his ear even as he tried to hide his face away. "At least now we're certain Mr. and Mrs. Diggory spotted us." She shook her head. She was pretty sure all the patrons of Slither In knew they were there by now.

The waitress swooped in, serving them the first course of their meal, much to Draco's relief. He tried his best to steer the conversation towards the food, the ambiance, heck, he eventually started talking about the damn weather! He groaned. Why was it so hard to have a normal conversation with her? What was it that they usually talked about again?

Hermione eyed him skeptically as she finished the rest of her dessert. They'd gone through the entire meal engaging in one pointless conversation after another. She narrowed her eyes. Malfoy was seriously acting weird again. What crawled up his ass this time around? She shook her head. Regardless, it was none of her business.

She grabbed a hold of her wine, taking a small sip out of it, when the sight of his own glass made her pause. It was still full, completely untouched. "You don't like this wine?"

Draco's hand paused in midair. He brought his dessert fork back down onto the plate, making the slice of French Cotillon slide off. "No."

"Would you like to-"

"It's fine, Granger."

She watched him focus his attention back to his dessert, eying him questioningly. She glanced at the bottle of 1989 Chateau Margaux, scrunching her brows in confusion. It was an excellent bottle of wine. Why wouldn't he– She blinked at the possible implications of his actions.

"Are you-?"

"Excuse me?" Draco raised a hand towards one of the ushers. "We'd like the bill please."

"Oh, Mr. Zabini would like to extend his courtesy. It's on the house, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco sighed in exasperation. Of course Blaise wouldn't let him pay this time around.

Hermione nodded her head at him as he excused himself to the loo. She watched his back disappear at a corner, trying to swallow down the questions itching to crawl out of her throat. She reminded herself once again that she had no right to pry. After all, it was none of her business.

* * *

"Ginger… Where are you? Here girl. Come on. I've got a can of salmon with your name on it."

Ginny moved all over the living room in search for the kitten. She usually came out the moment she called her over, so why wasn't she showing herself now?

Ginny peeked at the hallway that led to the bedroom, second guessing herself. Sure she's been there a few times, but it wasn't like she could go in without Zabini in attendance. It felt too… intimate. Too personal. She sighed. Where could Ginger be?

The sound of soft mewling caught her attention. It was coming from one of the rooms she's never been in. She moved against the door, pressing her ear against the wood when it shifted slightly, letting her hear the kitten's cries much clearer now. She looked down the knob, realizing it hadn't been pulled all the way in. 

Ginny nudged it open all the way, blinking at the sight of rows upon rows of paintings. Some were hung, while some were piled up onto the floor and against the wall. The room was bare of any furniture. The only thing stored in it was a worn down easel positioned by the tall window on the end of the room, flanked by an old wooden shelf full of paraphernalia. She blinked.

Blaise Zabini… painted?

She saw a mop of ginger move out from behind a stack of paintings, laying down contently against one of the easel's legs. She moved towards the worn-out frame, curious as to what painting Zabini was currently working on when rushed footsteps made her turn around. The livid look on the Slytherin's face stunned her.

"What the fuck are you doing here, Weasley?!"

Before she could even respond, a hand was on her wrist, pulling her out of the room instantly. The slam of the door snapped her out of her surprise, making her tug herself out of his hold.

"I was looking for Ginger. She was-"

"Get out!"

She blinked at the anger in his voice. They've had their fair share of fighting, but this was the first instance she's ever seen him so enraged.

"I said get the _fuck_ out!"

"Fine." Ginny grit her teeth to reel in her frustration. He didn't need to tell her twice.

Blaise ran a hand through his face at the pop of apparition. How on earth did she get into his studio? It was the most warded room in his entire flat, charmed to inform him of even the slightest occurrence of tampering. How could she have undone his wards without his notice? He only learned about her intrusion after she stepped into the room. He groaned. Had he forgotten to close the door?

He twisted the knob open in anger, marching into the studio to add another charm that would alert him if he ever left the door unlocked. He sighed, slumping against a wall as he slid down onto the floor. How could he have been so careless?

The only people who knew about this side of him were his mother and Pansy. Not even Theo attempted to unward this particular room. As insensitive as the Nott heir was, he never broke into places he'd never been invited in. He found that out the hard way after the annoying pureblood started invading his bedroom and raiding his wine cellar after he initially allowed him passage.

His eyes landed on the timeworn easel that once belonged to his father, tracing the chipped stained wood that held the stretched canvas in place. He could barely remember his old man's face, but all his memories of him revolved around watching him paint and play chess with his mother.

He took both up after he passed away. It was an incurable illness, he heard the healers tell his mother. It was around that time that she started taking long trips away from home, telling him she needed to work so she could provide for them. She pawned him off to the Parkinsons every so often, up until they were finally able to afford a house elf.

They eventually moved to a bigger house – one that didn't swelter during the summer, and freeze during the winter. She would play the piano for him and sing; dancing alongside him merrily as she blasted music throughout the house. She would cook for him, read to him, cuddle with him… until it was time for her to leave again.

Then he would be left at home alone, waiting for her to come back. Sometimes by the floo. Sometimes by the window. But he would wait. He was patient. She would be back after all… wouldn't she?

And so he would paint, and play chess. Paint and play chess. Just waiting for her to come home.

One day he found out he could see her in the papers. She was with a man he didn't know, but he could tell he was someone important. She looked beautiful, happy even.

So from then on, he would read. He would reach for the news every single day, hoping to get a glimpse of her even just to know that she was out there, still alive, wishing she would come home soon.

Sometimes, when the days and weeks bled into months, he was certain he had been abandoned. He would think for sure, this time around, he would never see her again. She was gone, just like his father.

But then she would finally return; bearing gifts and souvenirs, taking him out to eat, and buying him everything he wanted. She would play chess with him and read him books about the game. She would sing him to sleep, tuck him into bed, whisper loving words and wonderful promises in his ear… and then she would disappear again.

And back to waiting it was.

Blaise pushed himself off the wall, stalking towards the easel by the window. He sat down the stool, letting his eyes rove around his latest work. Judging by Weasley's reaction earlier, he was sure she hadn't seen it yet. He sighed. She would have said something if she had.

He ran a hand through his face, annoyed at himself for losing his cool. Why was it that whenever she was involved, it was so hard for him to think clearly?

* * *

Draco narrowed his eyes at the odd steel-like cylinder, flicking a finger against it in curiosity. What was a coke? He pulled one out of the shelf, shaking it next to his ear. What was inside? He saw the lid start to rise, making him hum in interest.

Hermione pursed her lips in amusement at the sight of the Malfoy heir inspecting a can of soda. After their past few dates, she decided to take it upon herself to choose this next one. The contract allowed her equal ownership of their arrangement's decisions after all, and she was sure she probably wouldn't be able to handle another one of his surprises. She snorted. This time, it was his turn to experience how annoying it was to be out of his element.

Draco placed a finger against the strange metal flap, trying to figure out what to do with it. He tried turning it around but it wouldn't budge. He tried pressing on it, but nothing happened. He eyed it in scrutiny. Did he have to pull it?

Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of him attempting to open the thoroughly shaken can of soda. "Malfoy don't-"

Draco sputtered at the sudden onslaught of black liquid, feeling his eyes burn at the contact. "Ah! Granger! What the fuck is this?!" He chucked the open can of coke away, spilling it all over the ground.

"Malfoy-" Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. Did he seriously have to throw it that far away? The whole damn floor of the beverages isle was now covered in coke! She grumbled, noticing a few of the grocery mart staff start to hover around them.

She apologized quickly, ensuring that they would pay for the opened can. She insisted on helping them clean it up, but they were redirected out of the lane immediately. She turned to glare at Malfoy, ready to reprimand him for being so handsy with everything, but the sight of him blinking his teary eyes made her catch herself. She sighed. He could seriously be so dumb sometimes.

"Let me see your eyes."

Draco blinked at the blurry image of her heading towards him. He raised a hand to still her, stopping her from getting any closer. "I'm fine."

"You're crying."

"I'm not crying!" He huffed, turning around to run his fingers through his eyes when a packet of tissues were shoved from his side.

"Use this."

He pulled a few out, nodding his thanks in silence.

"The next time you see something you're interested in, tell me. Don't go around blindly conducting experiments." She chuckled, secretly hoping the paparazzi was able to get a shot of that moment. If they did, she might even consider framing it so she could pull it out whenever she needed a laugh.

Draco sniffed, blinking his eyes a few more times, glad that they were somehow back to normal.

"You okay?"

He turned his head to one side, catching sight of her peering at him from behind his shoulder. He walked off, putting some distance between them, annoyed by the sudden burst of warmth in his chest. "Fine."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at his strange behavior. If she didn't know any better, she would say he was trying to avoid her. She folded her arms on her chest. Why? Was he still sour over that incident at Slither In? She rolled her eyes, pushing the cart as she stalked after him.

After checking off the rest of the items on her grocery list, Hermione finally made her way to the counter with Malfoy right behind her.

"How much do you think all those cost?"

She paused to eye him, realizing it was the first time he's _ever_ asked for a price. "Uh… I don't know. Why do you ask?" She watched him pull out a thick wad of cash from his pocket, making her hold his hand down instantly. "Malfoy! You don't pull out that amount of money in public! Put it back!" She whispered to him with urgency.

Draco felt the skin on his hand burn at the contact. He pulled himself out of her grasp quickly, stuffing the paper bills back into the pocket of his trousers. He cleared his throat. "Why?"

"It's questionable." She stated matter-of-factly. "Holding a purse full of Galleons maybe normal in the wizarding world, but it isn't here. Why are you pulling your money out anyway?"

"Aren't we paying for the stuff?"

"Wha-" Hermione blinked at him. "They're _my_ groceries. _I'm_ paying for them."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "The contract explicitly states that I am in charge of all necessary expenses throughout this arrangement."

"Emphasis on _necessary_. These are my purchases." She folded her arms on her chest. "Besides, isn't your bank account frozen? Save your money for something else."

Draco felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. "I'm not that _poor_ , Granger. Don't patronize me."

"I'm not." She eyed him pointedly. "These are for my consumption. It has nothing to do with our agreement, therefore, you have no obligation to pay." She raised a hand when she saw him open his mouth. "End of argument."

Draco felt himself bristle in annoyance as she pushed the cart away at the call of the cashier. He stalked after her, still ready to argue when a beep cut him off. The man by the counter was pointing a strange device onto the items, making their prices flash across a small screen. He blinked. Was he using magic?! And out in the open in front of all these muggles!

"Granger-" He paused when he saw her smirking at him in amusement. He swallowed down his protests, realizing it was probably one of the many muggle appliances Theo loved to talk about.

They walked out of the supermarket each holding a bag full of groceries.

Hermione stopped in her tracks the moment she realized he was no longer next to her. She whirled around to look for him, only to find him eying a vending machine full of… sweets. She rolled her eyes.

"Do you want one?"

"Huh?"

She shook her head at the wide-eyed look on his face, pulling out a few coins from her pocket. She could feel him watching her movements intently as she pushed in a couple of coins through the slot. She turned the dial a few times, making a red circle candy drop out of the container, rolling down a clear spiral slide before stopping onto the open hole. Malfoy bent down to reach for it in the next second.

"Was is it?"

"It's flavored gum." She explained, watching him eye it discerningly. "The taste depends on which color you get."

"Is it good?"

"It's alright." Hermione shrugged, fighting the smile itching to crawl up her face at the sight of him sniffing the candy. "Just try it." He gave her one more glance before attempting to take a bite out of it. His brows lifted up as he eyed it appraisingly.

"It tastes like cherries!"

Hermione pursed her lips to hold in a laugh. He always looked so endearing whenever he ate sweets. She blinked. Wait, _what_? Where did that thought come from?

Draco popped the remaining half of the gum in his mouth, eying the rest of the candy inside the machine. "I wonder what the green one tastes like. Do you think it's green apple?"

"Maybe." She looked away, hiding the wide grin on her lips. She glanced back at him when she finally schooled the expression on her face, only to see him holding onto a hundred pound bill, figuring out a way to get it in. He began folding it a few times, trying to make it fit inside the slot. She sputtered at the scene, no longer able to hold in her amusement.

"They only take in coins, Malfoy." She pulled a few out of her pocket, nudging them towards him. He stretched his hand out to her, eying the change she dropped onto his palm. He started working them into the slot one piece at a time.

If someone from Hogwarts told her that one day she would be at a supermarket with Draco Malfoy, teaching him how to use a vending machine, she never would have believed it. And yet here she was, watching him figure out how to turn the metal dial on the device so he could get his hands on some more candy. She smiled, feeling a strange sense of… pride at the sight of him, not quite believing how far he's come.

Perhaps people really can change.

"Argh bollocks! I got another red one! Hey Granger, give me some more coins."

Hermione raised a brow as he stuffed the entire gum into his mouth, stretching his free hand out to her. He was squatting in front of the vending machine now, looking up at her while he waited for some money.

She wanted to tell him no. She wanted to tell him the probability of getting a green one out would take forever. There were too many colors inside. But his focused gaze on the candy machine, and the impatient way he was nudging his open palm at her, made it difficult to deny him. She clicked his tongue.

Since when was it so hard to tell the Malfoy heir no?

* * *

Draco stood by the kitchen counter feeling completely out of place as he watched her stuff her groceries into the cupboard. The knowledge that she had once again added him to her wards made him feel… funny.

Should he help out? Should he leave? Should he… There had to be something he could do!

He continued to watch her in silence, feeling his restlessness slowly die down at the sight of her methodically packing away her food. He leaned back against the counter as she shuffled around her kitchen effortlessly; his eyes tracing her ever move.

She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear; the haphazard bun on the nape of her neck slowly coming undone. A bead of sweat trailed down her temple, rolling down the side of her jaw, before hanging by the edge of her chin. It trickled down the column of her neck slowly, pausing at the tip of her collarbone, before nudging itself over the obstacle. It began dipping down lower into the valley of her–

Hermione flinched at the sound of a smack. She whirled around towards the direction of the noise, only to see Malfoy standing there with a stunned look on his face; one side of his cheek gradually turning red.

"Malfoy, what the hell?!"

He pocketed his hands into his trousers. "There was a mosquito." He lied with a completely straight face.

"What?" She looked at him incredulously, crossing her arms on her chest. "Malfoy, _seriously_. What is up with you? You're acting weirder than usual!"

"No I'm not." He shook his head, scanning his eyes around the expanse of her flat, looking for a distraction.

"Malfoy-"

"Didn't you have a cat, Granger?"

She paused at the unexpected question. "I… I did."

He blinked at the telling answer, mentally cursing himself for asking such a stupid question. "Oh… I-"

"It's fine." Hermione turned around, going back to unpacking her groceries. "Crookshanks was pretty old."

There was a softness in her voice that he wasn't used to hearing. It sounded small, melancholic, and almost… lonely. "I didn't mean to pry."

"It's fine, Malfoy."

Draco felt a weight on his chest, sensing it gradually getting heavier with each passing second. He grit his teeth, feeling himself start to get restless; confused by the overwhelming urge to just… do something.

"Wait here."

"Huh?" Hermione narrowed her eyes at the distinct sound of apparition. Where the hell was he going? And what on earth was he planning this time?

She moved to the living room couch in wait for him, holding onto her wand to hex him into oblivion if he so much as– The sight of him popping back into her kitchen made her blink.

There, cradled in his arms, were two kittens pawing at him for attention.

"Malfoy…" Came her disbelieving tone. "What do you think you're doing?" She watched him move towards her, planting the kittens onto her coffee table.

"They're uh… They're mine. But if you want, you can have one…" He looked at her earnestly. "Only if you want, of course."

Hermione felt her breath hitch at the sight of the tuxedo cats. "Why are you… giving me one?"

Draco ran a hand through his hair, not sure what to answer to that. Why was he? "They… They helped with–" _The loneliness_ , he stopped himself from saying. "They're… fun." He settled on instead. "They make days a bit more fun."

Hermione blinked at the sight of him kneeling down in front of her coffee table, scratching his fingers against a kitten's chin. There was a softness in his gaze – a distinct fondness she wasn't used to seeing. One of the cats started moving towards her, purring for attention when the sight of its green and silver collar caught her eye.

"Romeo?" She raised a brow, chuckling at Malfoy's uncharacteristic name choice. "What, don't tell me that one's name is Juliet?" The smile on her face fell at the sight of his challenging gaze. "You can't be serious."

"Don't give me that look. Theo named them."

"You let Nott name your cats?" She blinked in disbelief. That seemed like a pretty intimate thing to let someone do. She hummed. Just what kind of relationship did they have exactly?

"They were his originally." He glared at the questioning glance she sent his way. "He had too many so he gave some away. You don't have to take him if you don't want to."

Hermione turned her gaze back to Romeo, watching him tilt his head to one side, patiently waiting for attention. She felt her heart clench at the sight of his clear gray eyes. "No… I… I'll keep him." She reached a hand out tentatively, letting her fingers graze the top of its head, when she felt something inside of her mind crack.

The image of Crookshank's limp body flash through her eyes, feeling her fingertips grow cold at the memory. She had just gotten back from work one Friday evening when she saw him lying oddly at the foot of the couch. One touch was all she needed to know that the old cat had passed away.

She didn't know what happened next. Her memories of the next two days were hazy and distorted. She snapped out of it come Sunday evening, crying her heart out while Ron held her in his arms, whispering assurances in her ear, telling her it would all be okay.

She woke up the next day rushing through her morning routine, annoyed at herself for sleeping in when Ron called out to her. He'd asked her superiors for a weeklong leave so she could mourn over the death of her pet.

And she had been livid.

She didn't need time to mourn. She didn't _have_ time to mourn! One week of lying on her bed and crying her eyes out wasn't going to change anything. Crookshanks, the only physical reminder she had left of her parents, was _dead._ She needed to get shit done! She needed to fix her parents!

_What am I even here for, Mione?! You won't talk to me, you never have time for me, and when I do something for you, you just get pissed off! What do you want from me, Mione?! Just tell me… Please… What do you want me to do?_

And she had left him standing there, telling him she was late for work.

Hermione let out a strangled breath, feeling the locks in her mind rattle. Suddenly, memories of Ron flooded her like a thunderstorm.

_Mione, breakfast is ready! I did it! Blimey! I didn't burn the pancakes this time!_

_Mione, I told you, it's not wise to do a castle when two of my knights are within distance. I can totally break through!_

_I double checked, no triple checked all the items on the list! There is absolutely no way I could have missed a thing, Mione! This time I'm sure. I got everything you asked me to. Now say you love me!_

_Good thing I was quick enough! That slicing hex was headed straight for my– Oh come on, Mione… I'm fine! You know it's part of the job. Besides, it's just a scratch! But you know... I don't mind getting hurt every now and then, if it means I get to see you make that face…_

_Mione, look what I got us! Matching mugs! Haha! They look ridiculous but when I saw them they reminded me of us! This one's yours! Do you like it?_

_Your birthday is coming up, so I put out all the stops! I got us a reservation at that fancy new restaurant people in the office keep talking about and– What do you mean you can't go?_

_Mione! You won't believe it! Ginny gave me tickets to the semi-finals! We can watch– What? It's a Sunday! Why are you working again?_

_Bloody hell! Look at what the owl just dropped! Lee Jordan sent us an invitation to his wedding at the end of this month and– Let me guess. You can't go. It's fine. Work, right? I'll just go myself._

_Mione can we…? Right. You're not free this weekend. Some other time then._

_Mione– It's nothing. Nothing at all._

Hermione clutched her head, fisting her hands against her hair as she struggled to breathe.

Draco rushed to her side, holding his hands out in panic. "Granger! What's wrong?! What's going–" The look of desperation on her face as she pressed her fists against her temples told him everything.

Her occlusion had been undone.

"Breathe, Granger. Breathe." He placed his hands on her shoulders as he knelt in front of her, grounding her back to the present. "Today is a Saturday. It's the 21st of October." He pushed his hands down against her, hoping the pressure would help her get her bearings back. "Do you hear me, Granger? It's the 21st of October." He felt his fingers tighten against her when she showed no indication of having heard him at all.

"Next Saturday would be the 28th, Granger. October only has 31 days. So the following Saturday would be the fourth of November. Are you keeping up, Granger?"

Still no response.

Draco grit his teeth at the sight of her crying, pulling her into his arms to further drag her back to reality. "Hermione! _Focus_!" He felt her flinch at the order, glad he finally got through to her. "The next Saturday would be November 11, followed by November 18. Now what comes after then? What date?" He squeezed her tighter, willing her to respond.

"N-November… Twenty… Five…"

He nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. "Let's keep going."

They continued up until the first few months of the following year, reaching the middle of April before she finally calmed down.

He felt her lean against him tiredly as he stroked soothing circles against her back. "I'm… I'm sorry, Granger… Sorry…" He shut his eyes, berating himself for triggering her attack.

Hermione barely heard his words, still reeling over the onslaught of her memories. Had she really been that awful to Ron? Had she really been that cold, uncaring and utterly unreasonable?

Had she really walked out on him even as he begged her to stay?

"I'll return the cats. I'll take them back, Granger. So please… Please don't cry."

_Please don't cry, Mione. I'm here. I'm right here. I won't ever leave you so… please don't cry._

The sound of Ron's voice coaxing her through her meltdowns brought a fresh set of tears in her eyes. He had been there for her – all those times she lost herself, all those times she had been ready to give up on everything. He was right there next to her, cheering her on through it all.

And what had she done? What did she do for him in return?

She felt her eyes grow heavy with guilt; her consciousness slipping away as her body slumped further against the warmth that held her still.

She was a horrible person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Long Author's Notes Ahead (feel free to skip)
> 
> If you've made it this far, I'm sure you already understand that the story telling of False Pretenses is nonlinear. It has several flashbacks, and a lot of conflict and information get left in the air for a while before it's given some light. A reviewer from a different site called it 'jigsaw effect'… and I realized it was the perfect word for whatever this is I'm trying to do.
> 
> Take for example the scenarios in this chapter. To those who may have forgotten, during Blaise's first appearance in this story, Draco wondered why he always seemed to be updated with the news. Now we understand that it's a habit that he developed from childhood. Then there's Pansy's home life. Hermione and Ron's relationship. And many more.
> 
> I understand that this style of writing and storytelling isn't for everybody. I've received a bit of backlash, mainly in the earlier chapters, regarding my portrayal of certain characters. However, about two weeks ago, I received a comment that made me feel like I needed to address it here in the notes.
> 
> The guest reviewer told me he/she had to stop reading because "everyone is sooo out of character" and then went on to tell me in detail how I should have written my version of Ron and Harry. It ended with "Humour in this one is also so dry, the sarcasm to far fetched making Draco idek"
> 
> I am not averse to constructive criticism (emphasis on constructive). To those who have given me wonderful ones (you guys know who you are and thank you so much), I've actually went as far as re-editing a portion of a chapter.
> 
> I understand that this website has a far reach, making this a melting pot of cultures, beliefs and principles. I understand that there are those who will appreciate my work, and there are those who won't.
> 
> But…
> 
> I think sometimes people forget the definition of the word 'fanfiction'. And I also think that we forget the fact that authors do not ask us to read their works.
> 
> It is there, for free, if we so choose to peruse it.
> 
> Just like me, majority of the authors who post here are novices with no real training – people who haven't published a thing in their lives. We just love writing. It's that simple really.
> 
> So what is the point of this rambling note?
> 
> I just wanted to remind everyone that kindness… is free. Take a breath. Think of your words. It doesn't take much to rephrase what you might want to say :)
> 
> To those who took time to read this, thank you! I apologize if it might have ruined the feels the chapter has given you. I wish you all a happy weekend ^^


	23. The Cycle of Hatred

Harry pursed his lips, trying his best to hold in his laughter as he stared at the drenched Slytherin before him. A fist landed against his shoulder, immediately turning his amusement into pain. His mouth fell open, feeling his eyes water as he cradled a hand against his injury.

"What the hell was that for?!"

Pansy swatted her dripping hands in the air before combing out locks of hair plastered on her face. "You said we wouldn't get wet you stupid git!"

Harry raised his hands up in surrender, feeling the water in his trainers squelch when he took a step back. "I didn't think it would be this bad!" When he suggested the log flume ride, he just expected a few stray splashes on them during the descent on the slides. What he failed to take into account was the fact that they would pass under a massive waterfall. _Twice._

The image of the snooty pureblood screeching and panicking made him grin. Witnessing Parkinson lose her grace and poise was one of the most hilarious things he's ever seen in his life! He watched her raise a trembling fist at him before huffing in annoyance.

Pansy turned around to stomp off, hoping to find a discrete place to cast a drying spell on her clothes when her damp stilettos slipped against a tile. She squealed in surprise at the sudden loss of balance. She reached a hand out to the floor to catch her fall, but an arm snaked around her waist, pulling her upright in the next second.

"Watch it, Parkinson!"

She blinked at the emerald eyes that met her gaze, feeling several droplets of water hit her face as they cascaded down his own. He was looking down at her; the wet strands of his hair touching the top of her cheeks, tickling the edge of her nose. She opened her mouth to say something, but for some unearthly reason, no words would come out.

"Parkinson?" Harry looked at her weird, scanning the stunned expression on her face. He glanced down her ankle, checking to see if she twisted it. "Are you alright?"

Pansy pushed her hands against his chest, turning around abruptly to hide the look of mortification on her face. She raised her hands to her sides to steel herself, utterly appalled by her reaction.

What the _fuck_ was that?

She stomped off, slamming a fisted hand against her chest, hoping the gesture would silence the hammering she could feel. "Fact check, you bloody idiot." She grumbled to herself in annoyance when the sole of her shoe slid against the floor once again. She caught herself just in time, stopping her movements before she could slip further.

"Easy!" Harry called out, stalking after her in confusion. What was her problem this time?

Pansy glared at her soppy heels in disdain. This was all their fault! She bent down to grab them off her feet, slamming them into the nearest trash bin with more force than necessary.

"What on earth are you doing, Parkinson?" Harry gaped at her in disbelief, watching her nonchalantly swipe her hands down the length of her damp black dress.

"They were pissing me off." She rolled her eyes, secretly glad that the sudden burst of anger calmed her down. She eyed her bare feet on the floor, imagining the expression on her mother's face if she could see her now. She smirked. She was sure old bat would look like someone fighting off the Cruciatus curse.

"So you threw them in the garbage?" He eyed her like he would a madwoman. "Are you seriously going to walk around looking like that?"

"I'll just get myself a new pair." She shrugged, heading towards the shopping district of the amusement park.

Harry shook his head as he followed after her. He watched her ignore the questioning looks thrown by the people within the vicinity. She had her nose in the air, strutting around like she was part of the royal family surrounded by her commoner subjects. He rolled his eyes. She was seriously _unbelievable._ He stayed back a few paces so as not to be associated with her in any way.

He watched her head into one store after another, choosing to wait outside by the entrance. She may be immune to judgment and attention, but he wasn't. Everyone was looking at her now; some even going as far as following her wherever she went.

She was a grown woman drenched from head to toe, walking around barefooted at the most populated area of the theme park. He groaned, feeling himself start to squirm at the secondhand embarrassment.

How did she do that? How was she capable of just… ignoring everyone? How could she just go about her day without a single care in the world?

"Potter!"

He flinched at the sound of the shrill voice that reverberated throughout the strip of the commercial district. She was a good few meters away, but he could see her barreling straight towards his direction. He felt his skin prick at the sheer amount of attention on him. She just _had_ to drag him into her mess, didn't she?

"They don't have it!"

He took note of the desperation in her voice, and the strange way her hands were fidgeting against her dress. "What do you mean?"

" _Heels,_ Potter! They don't have any!"

Harry swallowed down the sarcastic remark he initially planned on saying. Did she seriously expect to find a Jimmy Choo boutique at a place like this? "Where are you going?" He called out to her when he saw her dash towards the exit. He swiped a frustrated hand over his face, but ran after her nonetheless.

He found her standing in front of a garbage bin, looking down at it in stunned silence. Were her stilettoes covered in crap? He moved to her side, peeking into the black trash bag, realizing it had been replaced.

Her heels were nowhere to be found.

He wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh out loud _so bad_! But the memory of her punching him earlier made him reel himself in. If it hurt that much on his shoulder, he didn't want to find out how it would feel against his face.

He watched her sigh at the sky dejectedly, closing her eyes shut in frustration. She was shifting her weight from one foot to another now. Were they starting to hurt?

"I'll get you some shoes." He ran a hand through his hair, realizing it was still damp from the log ride earlier. "Why don't you wait for me by that bench?" He watched her turn towards him; the look of surrender wiped out of her face completely.

"They don't _have_ any." She glared at him in annoyance. Didn't he listen to a word she said?

"What's your shoe size?"

"Potter, I just said-"

"Shoe size, Parkinson."

"You won't be able to find-"

"Is it a ten? Eleven?"

She sputtered at this. "Are you fucking serious?! I'm a seven!"

He smirked at her in triumph. "Noted."

Pansy clenched her jaw, annoyed at herself for falling for his trick. Bloody _git_!

"I'll be right back. Just wait for me by the bench." Harry tilted his head towards it before walking away.

Pansy huffed at his retreating back, moving to plant herself onto the wooden seat. She sighed, feeling the soles of her feet throb painfully. She wiggled them in the air, hoping the action would soothe the burning of her skin. She looked around the quiet corner of the amusement park, checking for company. When she saw none, she tucked her hand into the pocket of her dress to wrap her fingers around her wand. She muttered a quick healing charm, following it with a drying spell. She sighed, feeling more comfortable with herself.

She glared at him the moment his form met her line of sight. There was a paper bag tucked under his arm, but that wasn't what made her feel suspicious.

It was the grin on his damn face.

"What the hell is that?" She looked at the box he brought out suspiciously.

Harry sat down beside her, flipping it open to show her a pair of pure black sneakers. "Your shoes." He laid them on the floor next to her feet, blocking out her protests. He wasn't particularly in the mood for her relentless yammering. "Trainers or bare feet, Parkinson. Your choice." He shrugged.

Pansy glared at the rugged black footwear on the floor, completely aghast. They were so… _so…_ she couldn't even think of a word to describe them! She scoffed. She could imagine her mother getting a heart attack if the old cooch ever saw her… saw her… She paused at the thought.

Harry felt his eyebrows raise all the way up his forehead at the sight of Parkinson shoving her feet inside the sneakers. He blinked. What made her suddenly change her mind? He watched her move off the bench, marching in place, testing out the rubber shoes.

Pansy hummed. They looked absolutely _hideous_ but at least they felt quite… nice. She snorted. For once, Potter was right. The ugly shits were a hell of a lot more comfortable than her stilettoes.

Harry pushed himself off the bench, grinning at her in satisfaction. "Wanna head over to the next ride?"

Pansy raised a brow at his excitement, just now realizing he'd finally cast a drying spell on himself as well. "Why the hell are you so happy, Potter?" She chucked a hand towards the park's attractions randomly. "Haven't you done this time and again with your muggle family? Don't you get bored of it?" She watched him shrug at her; the smile on his face dropping for a fraction before he turned around to walk away.

She followed him in silence, weirded out by the sudden shift in his demeanor. She scanned him from head to toe, trying to figure out what could have caused his sudden sullen disposition.

"Oh cool!"

She watched him head towards one of the booths, inspecting rows of accessories. She paused when she found herself lined up against a full length mirror, eying the way the chunky shoes complimented her A-line dress. She hummed. She hated to admit it, but they looked surprisingly… fashionable. She continued to examine the sneakers on the mirror when she felt something land on her head. She whirled around immediately, glaring at the grinning Gryffindor standing in front of her.

"What the fuck are you-" She paused, eying the glowing white halo he was wearing on his head. She scoffed. What the bloody hell was he doing? She reached a hand over her head, feeling something poke against her fingers. She turned around to check her reflection on the mirror.

A pair of red, angry looking horns met her gaze.

She heard him laugh out loud, doubling over as he clutched his stomach.

"It suits you, Parkinson!"

She fisted her hand to land another hit on him, but he stood back up to his full height without warning. He was looking down at her with twinkling green eyes; his shoulders still quivering at the hilarity of it all.

Harry grinned at the incensed expression on her face, feeling another bout of laughter bubble out of his throat. Since when was it so fun to mess with Pansy Parkinson?

"Stop smiling, Potter!" She growled in annoyance as she pressed her clenched hands to her sides. The weird feeling in her chest was back, alongside a blanket of warmth she did _not_ want to acknowledge.

He blinked, surprised by the random order. "Huh?"

"It's…" Pansy tried her best to look for the perfect word to label it. "It's _disgusting_!" She walked away, banging a fisted hand against her heart. She glared down at it in contempt. What the fuck was wrong with the little shit?! Fact check, damn it!

Harry scratched his cheek, utterly confused. What was wrong with his smile? He looked back at the mirror, grinning to himself to see what was so disgusting about it. He furrowed his brows, glaring back at her retreating form. It looked fine to him.

* * *

"Yes, precisely! What's really interesting is-"

Draco blinked at the pair by the door, pausing the hand that cradled his tea in the air. He could sense himself gradually start to feel self-conscious at the sight of the old man's knowing gaze.

"Draco! It's so nice to see you." Damocles walked into the office, reaching a hand out courteously. He glanced at the tea set on the table, noticing the blonde get up to greet him. The smell of packed take away coming from the paper bag by the corner of the sofa made him grin. An office date? He hummed to himself. It seemed the rumors really were true.

"Likewise, Damocles." He answered back as he met the gesture half way, remembering how the old man preferred to be called by his given name. He watched Granger shuffle into her office wordlessly, sending him a meaningful gaze.

When she told him the Wolfsbane potioneer would be dropping by St. Mungo's today to present his latest research, they decided to take the opportunity to make themselves seen. After the papers announced his recent involvement in The Order, it was a strategic move.

"Do you need the room? I can-"

"Nonsense, Draco! I was just walking Hermione back to her office."

"I insist. I dropped by unannounced so-" Draco paused when the older man's hand landed on his shoulder.

"It's fine! It's fine!" Damocles called out with a smile. "As always, it was lovely talking to you Hermione." He paused to lift the back of her fingers up against his lips, hiding the grin on his face at the sight of the glowering blonde. He was the jealous type, it seemed. "I do have some business to attend to, so I'll leave you both to it!" He bowed curtly at them before heading out through the door.

Hermione let out a sigh the moment the Wolfsbane potioneer left her office. "I'm glad that went by quite smoothly."

Draco nodded as he sat back down on the couch to reach for his tea cup. He watched her move towards her desk, shuffling a couple of files here and there. He wanted to ask her how she was after what happened a week ago with her Occlumency, but he decided to keep his thoughts to himself.

"What was his presentation about?"

"The potential uses of blood acquired from different magical creatures."

Draco blinked at this, not sure what to respond exactly.

"Relax. It's a completely ethical study." Hermione raised her palms up to reassure him. "Mr. Damocles works closely with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The entire process of his research is monitored, and the information is open to anyone who'd like to review it." She sat down the couch opposite of him. "It's not a common practice to be honest. Allowing anyone to review the intricacies of your research. It could be stolen, copied, plagiarized… but Mr. Damocles doesn't seem to mind." She shrugged, chuckling to herself.

Draco narrowed his eyes. That didn't make sense. "Why not?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's just that confident no one can do justice to his ideas? Or maybe he just doesn't care." She shrugged again. "Regardless, he's the only world-renowned potions master who bothers to study magical creatures. He's a genius. In every sense of the word." She admitted, unable to hide the awe in her voice. "I always make it a point to attend his lectures whenever I can. It might end up being useful for my own research."

"And how is it?" He allowed himself to ask, unsure whether he should have, but he pushed on nonetheless. "Your research."

Hermione looked down in deep thought. "It's… I've been looking into a few things and they look promising. Definitely nowhere near a cure, but…" She sighed out loud. "At least I've got a few leads."

Draco watched her run a hand through her hair; fatigue evident in the dark circles under her eyes. He glanced at her slumped shoulders, noticing the glassy quality of her gaze. He could feel himself start to get restless. Seeing her look so unsure of herself – weary and defeated – gave him an overriding sense of… urgency.

Why did seeing her so troubled make him want to just… do something?

The pages of her research flashed through his mind, recalling the night he spent pouring over them. He opened his mouth, catching himself in the last second. Should he say something? Maybe not. She didn't give him permission to look at her notes after all. He didn't really have the right to–

"Out with it."

"Huh?"

" _You not saying anything is just as loud as you actually saying something._ " She smirked.

He rolled his eyes. Why did she always have to throw his words back at him? "When I…" He cleared his throat, hoping the action would alleviate the discomfort he felt at the moment. "When I took a look at your research, I noticed a few things…" He could see her start to stiffen from the corner of his gaze. He pushed down the rest of his memories of that night, focusing on getting to the point as curtly and as politely as he could.

"You've looked into muggle medicine, charms, and potions, going as far as interweaving them alongside Arithmancy to accurately determine their validity and reliability, which was…" The complexity of her investigation had left him grasping at straws. He remembered grumbling through that night, annoyed at the stark reminder of her intelligence. "It was impressive."

Hermione blinked at his unexpected statement. Did he just… compliment her?

"But I noticed you haven't considered the use of the dark arts."

She took a moment to just look at him. "Excuse me?"

"You're familiar with the case of Bertha Jorkins?" He eyed her cautiously, taking a deep breath in to steel himself when he saw her fold her arms across her chest. The hardened expression on her face reminded him of the morning in her flat when she caught him scanning through her work.

"Voldemort and Peter Pettigrew tortured Bertha Jorkins to find out the whereabouts of Barty Crouch's son."

He nodded at her matter-of-fact reply. "The Cruciatus successfully broke the memory charm Crouch placed on Bertha-"

"Harming her mind _beyond_ repair-"

"Extracting the information that they needed."

Hermione gaped at him in disbelief. "Are you seriously asking me to-"

"Relax, Granger." Draco raised his palms up in the air. "I'm not asking you to do that." He paused. "Not exactly at least."

"Then what _exactly_ are you suggesting?" She could feel herself start to get defensive. The offhanded way he talked about the dark arts unsettled her.

"My theory, and I repeat, it's just a theory…" He paused again to emphasize his point. "Is that a certain level of 'torture' might be necessary to break a memory charm, especially one as strong as Obliviation." He raised a hand in the air to silence her when he saw her open her mouth again. " _Or_ … that the torturer needs to be specific on wanting to break it, instead of just inflicting pain."

He sighed when he saw her glaring at him defiantly. "Granger, I'm not asking you to trust me, or consider my ideas, okay? Just hear me out. That's all I ask."

Hermione huffed, swallowing down the urge to argue. She nodded at him to continue, taking a mental note of all the questions she would throw at him after.

"Now to say that this concept is unethical would be an understatement." He gestured a hand towards her to let her know that her sentiments had been considered. "But. What if it were to be administered to someone in a magically-induced coma?" He watched her blink at him; the look of distaste on her face gradually morphing into disbelief as she worked through the possibilities of his suggestion.

"And… what if you could add an adjunct to the treatment that could help healers get a better look _into_ their patient's recovery?"

"Legilimency." She whispered instantly, feeling her heart start to pound painfully in her chest.

"Again… A vastly unethical practice." Draco raised his palm out to her once more to reiterate that he understood the limitations of his proposals. "I'm no healer, Granger, but in theory, I'd like to think that the chances of success of this complex approach isn't close to zero." He finished, folding his arms against his chest. He eyed her defensively, bracing himself for her backlash.

But it never came.

Hermione could feel herself drowning in ideas as she stared at him in utter incredulity. Yes, it was incredibly unethical. Yes, it would probably be shut down by St. Mungo's medical board upon its proposal. Yes, it would no doubt receive a hefty amount of backlash from critics.

But _damn_ if it didn't make sense.

Draco shifted in his seat; her wide-eyed gaze making him grow uneasy. "What?" He mumbled out in displeasure. Why the hell was she looking at him like that?

"I…" She blinked at him, not able to find the words to express how much potential his ideas had. They were out of the box, completely unorthodox, and just downright… _creative_. Incredibly resourceful! She let out a breath. She didn't even _think_ to look into the dark arts. "I'll contemplate on it."

He nodded at her, eying her oddly. She was still looking at him in wonder, making him want to pull at the collar of his dress shirt.

"Sorry." She called out to him. "For being argumentative earlier. I was being… unreasonable and judgmental. I apologize."

Draco looked away, feeling uncomfortable under the weight of her sincerity. "It's fine, Granger. It was a justified response."

Hermione continued to stare at him as he plucked his cup of tea off the table, casting a wandless warming charm to heat it up once again. After arguing with him countless times over the pettiest things, watching him act like an idiot in the past couple of months, she'd completely forgotten how… brilliant he was.

" _What_?" He glared at her, annoyed that she still wouldn't take her eyes off him. It was making him feel… weird.

"I just… I guess I forgot."

"Forgot what?"

"That you're pretty smart."

Draco blinked once. Twice. Did she just… praise him? _Her_. Hermione Granger, the brightest witch of their age, thought he was… smart? He focused his attention back to his tea, trying to rid himself of the warm, fluffy feeling enveloping his entire existence.

"Don't sound so surprised, Granger." He cleared his throat to regain some semblance of control. "I have seven NEWTs after all."

"You have _seven_?"

He smirked at the look of disbelief on her face. "Yes. Passed them all with flying colors the moment my house arrest ended." He threw her a superior look. "How many do you have?"

"Seven." She sent him a challenging look.

Draco's brows rose up all the way up in surprise. So they had the same number. "What classes?" He narrowed his eyes, feeling himself gradually start to get competitive.

"Arithmancy, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Potions, Ancient Runes, and Transfiguration." Hermione could tell by the way he gaped at her that they'd taken exact same subjects. She clenched her jaw, feeling a familiar fire light inside her. "What were your marks?"

He raised a brow. Was she seriously going to compare grades with him? "I got an O in all of them."

She folded her arms across her chest when she saw him lean back slightly against the chair. She didn't know why, but something about the gesture told her he wasn't being truthful. "Really now?"

They stared at each other in silence, neither one willing to back down.

Draco broke first, gritting his teeth as he mumbled under his breath. "Except…"

Hermione leaned in, not able to hear what he said. "What was that?"

"Except in…"

"Say that louder?"

"Except in Ancient Runes, damn it!" He huffed out loud. He knew it was his own fault for foregoing his studies regarding the subject, thinking all his childhood tutoring and his years in Hogwarts were enough to get him an O.

When he decided to pursue his NEWTs after his house arrest, he initially planned on just taking three or four of them. He needed the credentials after all. But since his mindset was that of a crazy ass motherfucker back then, he ended up applying for all the subjects, getting approved in seven of them because of his previous academic standing.

The grin of triumph on her face made him want to splash his tea at her. "I take it you got an O in everything?"

"Of course." She shrugged as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

Draco rolled his eyes, cursing himself under his breath. He couldn't believe he lost to her _again_! He glared at her bushy hair, wondering if she was secretly stashing another brain underneath all that volume. He hummed. Perhaps that was the reason why it always looked like it had a life of its own.

Hermione eyed his grumbling form, curious as to how he managed to complete his NEWTs. His parole restrictions wouldn't have allowed him back to Hogwarts, so how did he take them? She opened her mouth to ask him when the door to her office flew open, banging against the wall at the force of the swing.

"Granger! I come bearing-" Theo felt the blood drain from his face at the sight of platinum blonde hair and burning gray eyes. A chill trickled down his spine, making him reach for the door knob blindly, hoping he could close it before anyone could say another–

"Come join us, Theo."

He swallowed at the sound of the Malfoy heir's flat tone. It wasn't a request. It was an order. "I seem to have landed myself in the wrong office. I'll just show myself out the-"

" _Sit_."

Theo grit his teeth at the command. He glanced at the identical couches, trying to decide which one was the safer option. He could pick Draco's, but then he would be within strangling distance. He could choose Granger's to keep himself out of reach, but then he would be under the scrutiny of the other Slytherin's piercing gaze. He sighed.

Draco's couch it was then. He could always count on Granger to save his ass from any form of physical injury in the event that he would come upon an untimely assault. He flopped down the end of the sofa furthest from the blonde, ignoring the glare he was currently sending him.

Hermione eyed them both in intrigue, realizing the Nott heir still hadn't informed Malfoy about their meet ups. She smirked, wondering how the dark-haired wizard was going to play his cards.

"I came to hand these back."

Draco glanced at the tiny black pouch in Theo's hand, confused as to why he had something of Granger's. He hadn't heard from the Nott heir in over a month now. He chalked it up to another one of his travels in the muggle world, but that didn't explain why he and Granger seemed to know each other. Last time he checked, they never interacted back in school.

"What's in there?" He grabbed the pouch without warning, emptying it out on the coffee table.

"Your manners are absolutely _impeccable_ , Draco." Theo rolled his eyes.

Draco watched the piles of parchment, books and notes revert back to their original size. "What are these?"

"My transcripts." Hermione clarified, waving her wand over them to shrink them once more, stuffing them back into the tiny pouch. "He borrowed them for his NEWTs."

"You finally took your NEWTs?!"

"Yup!" Theo raised the three-finger rock-and-roll gesture at the gaping blonde. "Been studying my ass off like _crazy_. I haven't left my manor in forever!" He chuckled to himself. "And guess what? I took five NEWTs and got Os in four of them! _Four_! Can you believe it?!" He grinned, feeling himself slowly lose his excitement at the sight of their blank, unimpressed stares. He rolled his eyes, forgetting for a second that he was talking to the top two students of his year.

"My _sincerest_ apologies for being underwhelming."

"No, I think it's great, Nott. Congratulations."

"Don't patronize me, Granger."

Hermione shook her head, pursing her lips to suppress the grin on her face at the sight of the sulking Nott heir. "I'm not. I think it's wonderful."

"Sure you do."

Draco watched them in silence, confused by the amiable quality of their exchange. "Why don't I know about your NEWTs?" He eyed Theo suspiciously. Why would he tell Granger about his exams? How long have they been in contact? Were they close? What kind of relationship did they have exactly?

Theo sighed, hearing the rambling in the blonde's mind loud and clear. " _Relax_. I'm not after your girl, Draco." He smirked when he saw him break eye contact. "I didn't tell you about my NEWTs because I was planning on a big reveal." He sighed wistfully, disappointed that he'd been robbed of the element of surprise. "Since you guys are _lovers_ and I'm your best mate, I made it a point to say hello. Well, _that_ and I needed her notes so… win-win!"

Hermione raised a brow at the wink he sent her way, surreptitiously assuring her that their connection would stay secret. She shook her head. Was he seriously not planning on telling Malfoy a thing?

Draco glared at the annoying pureblood, ignoring the heat on his face at the mention of his supposed relationship with Granger. "Why didn't you just borrow my transcripts?"

Theo scoffed at the ridiculous suggestion. "Draco, have you _seen_ your notes? They give _disorganized_ a whole new meaning! Besides, you can't call those chicken scratches words!"

"There's nothing wrong with my handwriting!"

Theo turned his attention to the lone female in the room, quietly watching their exchange with poorly veiled curiosity. He raised a brow at the small smile on her face. _Interesting_.

"You've seen his writing a few times in school, haven't you, Granger?" He smirked when he saw her nod in affirmation. "And what can you say about it?"

Hermione opened her mouth to tell them that hieroglyphs made better sense, and that she's seen more legible scrawls from five-year-olds; but the imploring way Malfoy was looking at her, as if he was somehow… hoping she'd be on his side, made her catch herself.

Theo felt his brows move all the way up his forehead at their silent exchange. He knew Draco was a lost cause from the very beginning, but to see even Granger start to hold her tongue around him… He let out a breath, feeling the corners of his lips gradually rise at his realization.

"It's… I've seen worse." Hermione settled on instead, folding her arms on her chest.

"Is that so?" Theo grinned, not missing the way the Gryffindor avoided his gaze. He watched Draco throw him a smug look, no doubt oblivious to what just happened exactly. He didn't know if he wanted to offer the blonde git a high five for a job well done, or slap him senseless for being an idiot.

His gaze shifted back and forth between them, fighting the overwhelming urge to just… _tease_. He wanted to call Granger out _so bad_! He was dying to see Draco sputter in denial, acting like the _bloody fool_ that he was! He huffed in frustration. Did they seriously not notice the damn fucking tension in the room?!

Theo took a deep breath in, dragging all the impulses he felt away from his mind. He locked them up for now, because as much as he wanted them to get together, he knew they both needed to do this at their own pace – at their own time.

"Well, thanks again for the notes, Granger!" Theo pushed himself off the couch; his excuse ready before either of them could convince him to stay. "I have someone I need to meet, so I'll see you guys around!"

His hand paused on the door knob, doubling back to pull something out of the pocket of his coat. "I almost forgot. A little something to express my gratitude."

Hermione felt her breath hitch at the box of La Madeline au Truffle. "Nott! You shouldn't have!" She reached out for it excitedly, looking up at the Slytherin to nod her thanks. She wasn't fond of sweets, but this one was just _divine_. He'd given her a box of it when he asked to borrow her notes, and the Valrhona dark chocolate was absolute _heaven_.

"What's that?" Draco shifted towards the end of the couch, eying the golden box in her hand.

"Not for you." Theo warned, pointing a finger at him. "I know you worship sweets, Draco, but this one's for Granger. I'll just get you a box the next time I drop by the muggle world." He snorted at the offended look on his childhood best friend's face, no doubt annoyed at being denied of something.

Theo gave them one final wave of goodbye before making his way out of the room. He paused outside the office, peeking through a small gap he left on the door. He couldn't hear them that well, but the sight of the bushy-haired witch opening the box of chocolate, nudging it towards the grinning blonde made him sigh.

It seems like yesterday when they were still at each other's throats, hating one another's guts, making the other person cry. Now here they were, sharing sweets and smiling at each other like all was right in the world. He sighed again.

They grow up so fast.

* * *

Ginny glared at the unopened letter in her hand, watching as the Weasley family owl made it out of her room's window. She huffed. It's been almost two weeks since her altercation with Zabini. Since then, he's barred her from his wards, repeatedly returning back the letter she kept sending to him unopened. She chucked the crumpled, sealed envelope across her room, laying back down her bed in frustration.

What the hell was his problem? It took her a week to finally swallow down her pride and build the courage to send him a letter of apology. Writing down those two words took the entirety of her willpower, damn it! He could have at least read it! Besides, it was his fault for not closing the bloody room's door. If that place was so important to him, he should have taken extra measures. She groaned.

_I said get the fuck out!_

The image of his livid face flashed in her mind. It was just for a fraction of a second, but in that moment, she could have sworn she saw something else behind his eyes. Underneath the anger, hidden by the look of accusation, was a strange… fear? Panic?

Shame?

She blinked, utterly confused by the expression on his face. What did he have to be ashamed of? She took herself back to the room full of color, recalling the artworks strewn all over the place. Majority of the paintings had been that of random everyday items, rooms, overlooking views of towns, harbors, buildings, tree-lined pathways… They were all wonderful pieces of art. She furrowed her brows. He obviously had a talent, so why was he trying so hard to hide it?

Ginny ran a hand through her face, annoyed by the Slytherin's odd behavior. She shot up off the bed, pacing through her room as she crossed her arms against her chest. Okay… she _did_ invade his privacy. She _did_ enter one of the rooms in his flat without permission. That much was true. But… she didn't mean to! She was really just looking for Ginger! She wasn't trying to snoop around! She huffed.

The image of the old easel and worn-down wooden shelf in his studio made her pause in place. It wasn't as if he couldn't afford new ones, so why was he keeping them? Were they a gift? Perhaps they belonged to someone else? Either way, they were important to him somehow. She hummed. She never pegged him as someone sentimental.

The memory of him cleaning her up after sex made her blink. He didn't have to but he always did. In the instances she fell asleep, she would find herself waking up carefully wrapped around warm blankets; her clothes laid out neatly at the foot of the bed, freshly cleaned. He also never failed to leave her a glass of water and a cup of tea charmed to stay warm by the bedside table. She flopped back down the mattress, scratching the top of her head in frustration.

He just didn't make any bloody sense!

Her eyes landed on the creased, unopened envelope by the floor, feeling her irritation double. Why did he have to act like such a child? Why couldn't they just talk about things like mature people? She was trying to say sorry, damn it! Why won't he just accept her apology?!

Ginny huffed, folding her arms across her chest as she glared at the ceiling. Maybe he found someone else, or perhaps he just got bored of her. But regardless of the reason, his silence was a clear enough answer.

He obviously wanted to end things, so… why was she still overthinking this?

Why couldn't she just… let it go?

She ran a hand through her face, sighing out loud in resignation. Speculating was getting her nowhere. She needed to get this, whatever the hell this whole thing was, sorted out. She's been getting hell from the coach during practice for the past couple of days already. They were playing against the Arrows in two weeks; this season's number one team. She couldn't afford to be distracted! She huffed.

If he wasn't going to listen to her, then she would make him.

* * *

"Mr. Zabini? We have someone requesting for you at the front desk, sir."

Blaise didn't bother to glance up, too busy perusing the financial reports in his hand. "Who?"

"Miss Weasley from the Holyhead Harpies."

Blaise felt dread course through his veins, ignoring the strange stutter in his chest. He narrowed his eyes at the excited, reverent look on his employee's face the moment she mentioned Weasley. Was she a fan?

"Tell her I'm not here." He raised a brow when the woman walked inside his office, closing the door behind her.

"Miss Weasley asked me to say, 'Your staff already informed me that you're here, so don't bother to lie.', if you order me to tell her you weren't at the premises, sir."

Blaise chucked the stack of parchments onto his work table, leaning back further onto the cushion of his leather chair as he folded his arms. "Then tell her I'm at a meeting."

"In the advent you would use 'in a meeting' as an excuse, Miss Weasley instructed me to reply, 'I have the whole day off. I'll wait by the front desk.'"

Blaise felt his eye twitch as he glared at the devoted expression on his restaurant staff's face. He was her _boss_ for crying out loud. Why the hell was she doing Weasley's bidding?

"Then tell her I'm busy the _whole day_. She'll have to come back another time."

"For that specific response, sir, Miss Weasley said, 'I have an interview with Witch Weekly in three days.'" The woman furrowed her brows, confused as to why the talented chaser chose that as a comeback.

Blaise clenched his jaw, understanding the implication of her words. Was she blackmailing him by threatening to badmouth his restaurant if he refused her an audience? He clicked his tongue. Wasn't she supposed to be a damn Gryffindor? Who gave her the right to act like a bloody Slytherin?!

"Sir?"

Blaise glared back at the woman standing before him, waiting for an answer. "Fine." He replied through gritted teeth. "Bring her here."

He didn't have to wait long. The annoying redhead was in his office in the next minute. He busied himself with paperwork, not bothering to spare her a glance. He scratched his quill across the parchment, waiting for her to say something.

When the silence stretched into minutes, wearing his patience thin, he eventually gave up.

Blaise lifted his head to glare at her, seeing her leaning against the door with her arms folded across her chest. "Well? What do you want?" He narrowed his eyes when she moved towards his table, dropping a stained, wrinkled envelope on his desk. He fought the urge to run a hand through his face.

It was the same damn letter her owl's been attempting to deliver to him for several days now.

Ginny jutted her chin at it, folding her arms on her chest once again in wait.

Blaise wanted to throw his hands up in frustration, but decided against it. He swallowed down his annoyance, grabbing it off the table to tear it open.

_I'm sorry._

He blinked at the tiny words written on the paper, feeling his exasperation vanish in the blink of an eye. Replacing it was an overwhelming warmth he wasn't used to feeling.

"I didn't mean to walk into that room. I really was just looking for Ginger. I heard her cries through the door. It was ajar so I went in."

Blaise continued to stare at the paper in his hand, not knowing what to do with himself. Suddenly, he found it difficult to look her in the eye.

Just like that, she managed to outbalance him once again.

"I… I didn't mean to invade your privacy, Zabini. It won't happen again."

He finally looked up, seeing an expression on her face he's never seen before. She was guarded but… remorseful. The sincerity in her brown eyes left him speechless.

Why?

Why was she apologizing? He was the one who screamed at her. He was the one who cut her off without so much as an explanation. He was the one who made sure it would be damn near impossible for them to talk, let alone see each other again.

He made it _so much easier_ for her to just… walk away. So why? Why was she still here?

Why hasn't she left?

"Zabini?"

He continued to look at her questioning gaze, feeling utterly confused with himself. With her. With them. With _everything_.

What the hell _was_ this?

He told himself he would walk away. He decided he would end things. He was certain he was finished! So…

Why did two tiny words on a crumpled paper make him want to change his mind?

" _Zabini_?" He heard her call out once more with a hint of irritation in her tone. The initial wariness in her gaze was gone; replaced by a fire of impatience, gradually drowning him in flames.

_Fuck it._

He pushed himself off his chair, rounding the table with a few calculated steps.

Ginny opened her mouth to ask him what the hell was wrong with him, but a hand was on the nape of her neck in the next second, pulling her into warm, urgent lips. The noise of protest she made quickly turned into a moan when she felt him nip at her bottom lip. His tongue was in her mouth; his firm body pushing her back against the table.

He felt her wrap her legs around him instinctively, clutching the fabric of his suit jacket, dragging him closer. His free hand moved under one of her knees, pressing it against his hip to keep her in place. He moved away from her lips to latch onto the spot behind her ear that always made her shiver. He dragged his mouth down the column of her neck, grazing his teeth against her thrumming pulse, making her breath hitch. He sucked against it, feeling her jolt in his arms. He did it again, hearing her cry out loud in pained pleasure.

Blaise winced when he felt her tug on his hair, forcing him to draw back. Darkened brown orbs trailed down his face, drinking in the sight of him before staring back into his eyes. "I want you." She whispered against his mouth.

The hunger in her voice made him groan. He closed his eyes, holding in the overwhelming urge to take her right then and there. Her lips landed on his ear, biting against the shell of it. " _Now_." She breathed into him, making him shudder with desire.

 _Fuck_.

This woman was going to be the death of him.

* * *

"A pleasant morning to each and every one of you."

Aurelius Belby stood up with the rest of the people, nodding at Kingsley Shacklebolt as he headed towards the head of the table. As they settled back down into their chairs, a loud knock reverberated from the door.

"My apologies for the intrusion, ladies and gentlemen." Damocles smiled as he swept his gaze through the room strategically.

"Dam-Mr. Damocles." Kingsley greeted, blinking at the Wolfsbane potioneer, caught off guard by his sudden appearance.

"Minister." Damocles bowed. "I've been informed by my brother of today's meeting just this morning. I hope you don't mind my last minute attendance?"

Aurelius eyed his brother in disbelief. What was he trying to achieve by lying to the Minister of Magic?

Kingsley raised a brow, watching his former Hogwarts classmate waltz into the room, clearly not waiting for his approval.

Damocles locked onto his brother's gaping face, moving towards an empty seat beside him. "Shut your mouth, Aurelius. It's undignified." He reprimanded, making sure his voice was low enough to avoid being overheard. "Marcus told me I might find you here."

Aurelius closed his eyes in dread, not believing his own son sold him out. "Why are you here?"

"Why do you think?"

Aurelius sighed, not in the mood for his older brother's rhetorical questions. He opened his mouth to interrogate him further, but the minister's voice cut him off.

"Why have you called for this meeting, Mr. Diggory?"

"What are the steps we're currently undertaking regarding the dark lord's followers?" Amos Diggory asked straightforwardly, not bothering with any pleasantries. "I've heard the interrogations have long since been stopped, and that the majority of the aurors shadowing people of interest have been pulled out."

Kingsley nodded in confirmation, waiting for the retired DRCMC head to make his point.

"What is the meaning of this, Minister?" Amos Diggory raised his hands up in disbelief. "You owe us an explanation."

"The reason is simple, Mr. Diggory. The cross-examinations and shadowing have ended mainly because we've already weeded out most of the Voldemort loyalists." He paused, taking note of the people who shuddered at the mention of the dark lord's name. "To continue on with it would be uncalled for."

"Uncalled for?"

Kingsley turned his attention to the woman whose venom-laced voice cut through the air like a knife.

"Since when is justice ever uncalled for?" Mrs. Goldstein raised a brow.

"I share the same sentiments." Mr. Smith called out, folding his arms across his chest. "To stop everything now would be premature."

"Does this mean… the rest of them get to stay free?" Mrs. Hopkins gaped at Kingsley, shifting her gaze throughout the rest of the group in disbelief. "Surely that's not what I think will happen, Minister Shacklebolt?"

"I saw that… that…"

All eyes darted back towards Amos Diggory.

"That Malfoy boy. That dog of the dark lord! He was…" Amos clenched his teeth, shaking his head repeatedly at the injustice of it all. "He was dining at a table a few paces from mine… and with Hermione Granger no less!" He raised a hand against his face, hoping it would hide his bitterness. "How quickly people forget!"

Damocles skimmed his eyes through the room, noticing similar expressions etched on almost every person's face. He glanced at Kingsley, noticing him surveying the room as well. He smirked. It seems he hasn't changed since their time in Hogwarts.

"My boy… Cedric? He would have turned 23 this year." Amos shook his head, feeling a hand land on his shoulder. "Your Zacharias would have been 21." He called out, closing his fingers around Mr. Smith's arm in a gesture of comfort. He could see his longtime friend's eyes start to water.

"Wayne had his birthday last month." Mrs. Hopkins admitted with trembling lips. "He's twenty now."

Mrs. Corner burst out in tears, shaking her head at the reminder of her own son. "Michael would have been twenty as well."

"All our children are dead, Minister." Mrs. Goldstein's voice cut through the room once again; her cold eyes landing on the most powerful man in the room. "So are plenty of others as well. The people responsible for them should be held accountable."

"They are." Kingsley finally spoke.

"What makes you so sure?" Mrs. Goldstein challenged. "The only people you've convicted are those who've actually used unforgivables. What of the ones who were accessories to crime? Allies to genocide? Propagators of cruelty? What happens to them, _Minister_?"

Damocles could notice slivers of annoyance start to surface on Kingsley's face. He smiled a little to himself. He could tell his former housemate had been banking on the general grief of the group to steer them towards wherever it was he intended to; but Mrs. Goldstein was like a hammer of reason, jostling everyone back to the present.

"We've done as much as we could, avoiding the critical eye of the media." Kingsley began, sending everyone a passing glance. "Recent events have brought our actions to light. Anymore and it will be _us_ who the people persecute. In fact, it has begun." He paused, watching understanding dawn on some of the people in the room. "The paparazzi lying in wait outside our offices and houses serve as a warning for all of us."

Damocles watched Kingsley and Mrs. Goldstein stare each other down, intrigued over who would win the silent war.

"M-May I speak, sir?"

Kingsley eyed the lanky man raising his hand in the air, glancing at the room hesitantly. He nodded his head at Mr. Creevey, allowing him to speak. It was the first time the muggle's ever initiated anything, usually taking on a silent passive role.

"I… I don't know much about your world. I'm a muggle, as you all know, save for Mister Dim… Dom…"

"Damocles." The Wolfsbane potioneer corrected with a smile.

"Mr. Damocles!" Mr. Creevey blushed in embarrassment. He cleared his throat. "I joined because Mister– _Minister_ Kingsley!" He corrected himself immediately. "Minister Kingsley told me joining The Order would help me put those… those _bastards_ who killed my son in prison." He ran a hand through his face in exasperation. "I'm… I'm a milk man. It's all I've done my whole life. I didn't get a proper education. None of that fancy stuff. But Colin… My Colin was… He was smart. Absolutely brilliant, that boy of mine."

Aurelius pulled out a packet of tissues from his pocket, offering it wordlessly towards Mr. Creevey.

"Collin would uh… He would bring home these moving photographs." He chuckled to himself, pulling out a couple of tissues to wipe them against his eyes. "My wife and I… We would stare at them for hours, trying to figure out how they worked. And my boy would always say, _'It's magic, father! Isn't it wonderful?'_ "

Damocles felt the air in the room shift, sensing it grow heavy with grief once again.

"He carried that camera of his wherever he went. We'd get packets of photos every week, and he'd bring home more with him during school break. I asked him why he took so many… and he told me… my boy told me it's so we'd get to experience magic, too." Mr. Creevey sniffed, letting the tears flow freely from his eyes. "He was a sweet boy. Bit of a coward, but shameless to the core." He chuckled through his tears. "I never thought he'd fight in a war. I never thought that he'd… he'd…"

Damocles watch several of the people in the room burst into tears. He glanced at Kingsley once again, realizing he'd been under the minister's watchful eye for quite some time now. He sent him a smirk, winking at him brazenly.

"He was too young to die! I'll never forgive them!" Mr. Creevey finally crumbled into mourning. "So… whatever it takes I… I want all those murderers behind bars!"

Kingsley waited for the muggle father to calm down before offering him a nod of understanding. "And we have them, Mr. Creevey. They are under our custody now, serving a life sentence in Azkaban for their crimes." He watched the milk man throw him a look of gratitude. "They won't be able to hurt another innocent life like Colin."

Mr. Creevey burst into tears again, nodding in relief at the assurance that his son's perpetrators had been caught, experiencing a torture that was worse than death.

"Like… Like Mr. Creevey, I'm a muggle, too."

Attention shifted towards the tiny woman at the far end of the table; presence almost forgotten because of her silence and size.

"Justin was… He was in the same year as the boy who defeated that dark lord. Harry Potter, so I've been told." Mrs. Finch-Fletchley began, eyes downcast so as not to meet anyone else's gaze. "When I… When they presented his body to me… It looked as if he was just sleeping." Her voice broke. "I shook him a few times, thinking maybe… maybe I could wake him up, you know? But his body was… It was cold and hard and… I just knew he was gone."

Amos Diggory's muffled cry rang in the room, no doubt remembering the exact moment he saw his only son dead on the ground.

"Who on earth could have done something like this? Who could kill an innocent boy? I kept asking myself. I wished death on his murderer. There hadn't been a single day I hadn't prayed that his life end as painfully as possible. But… But when they finally caught his killer…" Mrs. Finch-Fletchley glanced up at the room; weary eyes begging for an answer. "She was young girl. About Justin's age, too." She shook her head in disbelief, running the back of her hands on her cheeks to swipe away the tears.

"I wanted to yell at her, drag her by her hair, slap her senseless! But… She… She looked _so scared_ , sitting in that room surrounded by all those adults, so I… I _hugged_ her." Mrs. Finch-Fletchley tried to chuckle through her pained sobs. "I hugged my son's killer."

"My son's killer was a boy in his year." Mrs. Goldstein proclaimed, darting her gaze towards the grieving muggle. "I made sure he would land in Azkaban the moment he was of age." Came her bitter tone. "Suffice to say, that boy will never see the light of day ever again."

"But where does it all end, Mrs. Goldstein?" Mrs. Finch-Fletchley called out tiredly. " _When_ does it all end?"

"When justice is served!"

"And how do we say when it is?" Mrs. Finch-Fletchley pushed on. "Making sure that young girl would live her life in the worse way possible… won't bring me back my son. Justin, my Justin he's… he's gotten cold and hard and… My Justin is _gone_."

Damocles gave the room one more scan before shifting his gaze towards the man by the head of the table, eying the rest of his subjects like a hawk. He grinned.

Kingsley Shacklebolt really hasn't changed since Hogwarts, and as a fellow Slytherin, he couldn't help but feel proud.

* * *

"If you think for one second you can outsmart me brother, then you obviously haven't learned a single thing in the last forty years."

Aurelius Belby sighed at the sight of his older brother sitting by the foot of his bed. He shut the door to his room, leaning against it as he ran a hand through his bulging tummy. "What do you want?"

"You know what I want." Damocles narrowed his eyes, urging him to talk. "Why the hell have you attached yourself to The Order of the Phoenix?"

Aurelius sighed, rubbing his hands together as he made his way towards the settee. "I just wanted to help."

Damocles fought the urge to run a hand through his face as he stalked towards the couch set. He flopped down the upholstered chair right next to his brother, glaring at him in annoyance. "I didn't drag you and your son all the way to the muggle world during the war, only for you to involve yourself in something ridiculous again."

"Joining The Order now is nowhere near as risky as joining it during the war." Aurelius rolled his eyes.

"Depending on how you look at it." Damocles paused to emphasize his point. "Sure you won't _die_ , but the reputation you've worked so hard to achieve, and the riches you've finally accumulated, could all vanish in the blink of an eye. All it takes is one wrong move, Aurelius."

"My reputation and money weren't brought about by my hard work, brother." Aurelius sent him a knowing glance. "Most of them I got thanks to _your_ instructions. You told me where to invest. You taught me how to make my money grow. You instructed me which parties to attend, which families to cozy towards, and which ones to avoid. That was all _you_."

"Stop passing the credit to me. All I did was give you information. You carried everything out yourself." Damocles glared back at him to silence any rebuttal. "As your older brother, I have a duty to keep you _safe_ , Aurelius."

"Brother…" Came Aurelius' exasperated tone. "How long do you think you have to atone for things?"

Damocles tilted back, taken off guard by his younger brother's uncharacteristic frankness.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I don't blame you for _anything_?"

Damocles looked down at his hands, unable to look his younger brother in the eye. His transgressions had caused the dissolution of his engagement to another pureblood woman, resulting to his banishment. As the first born, it had been his duty to uphold his family's reputation and image. He had been groomed to be the heir to his ancestry's fortune, and the sole proprietor of their estate. So when he desecrated the agreed upon marriage pact, all responsibility fell on Aurelius.

His younger brother – who knew nothing of the world, who didn't know how to play by the rules – was thrown into a lair of wolves, taken apart bit by bit by ruthless predators who did it for the thrill and the game. His little brother – who always followed him blindly, who bestowed him a trust he could never begin to fathom – had been left to pick up after his mess.

"I just wanted to do something." Aurelius sighed out loud, leaning back against the couch. "Don't you regret it? Doing nothing during the war? Hiding out at a safe place while the rest of-"

"No. I don't regret a thing." Damocles stated without shame. "The lives of strangers aren't my responsibility. But mine is. Yours as well."

"I can never understand the way you think, brother."

Damocles smirked at this. "I'm not like you, Aurelius. I don't feel the need to make this world a better place. There will always be people like Tom Riddle. The same way there will always be people like Harry Potter. Let _them_ deal with the fallout. All you have to worry about, is your _own_ life."

"And what kind of life would that be then?"

"A _living_ one."

"Somehow… that sounds really sad to me."

Damocles chuckled at this. "We've been living for almost half a century in this cursed world, and you still haven't lost your rose-colored glasses?" He shook his head. "Is it because you're a Hufflepuff?"

Aurelius glared back at his older brother, annoyed at his propensity to resort to petty house insults. "As if Slytherin is such an amazing house!"

"It is." Damocles shrugged offhandedly. There wasn't a single argument in the world that could dispute that fact. "It's not even a question." He grinned at his younger brother, slowly allowing the features of his face to grow stern.

"Leave The Order."

"No."

Damocles felt his eye twitch. "Why are you being so stubborn about this?"

"I told you. I want to help. Hiding throughout the entirety of the war, and then reaping the peace the rest of society worked so hard for, doesn't sit well with me."

"Fucking Hufflepuffs." Damocles muttered under his breath, making Aurelius bristle in annoyance.

"I'm not a kid anymore, brother! In case you haven't noticed…" He pointed towards the topmost portion of his head. "I'm starting to go bald!"

"I don't need a reminder, Aurelius." He rolled his eyes. "It brightens up like a bloody bulb every single time it catches the light." He swept the back of his hand against his lustrous gray locks, smirking at the look of disdain his brother threw at him.

"I _know_ what I'm doing. You used to tell me that it's pointless to live a life full of regrets, remember? I know that if I continue to do nothing, I really won't be able to live with myself. I have the money, the connections, and the influence to actually make a difference this time around. So I want to try."

They stared each other down in silence.

"Just so you know, I'm not asking for your permission."

Damocles felt his brows raise all the way up his forehead. "And what gave you the idea you needed it?"

Aurelius perked up at the statement.

"I'll just drag you away the moment things start taking a dangerous turn." He grinned at the incensed expression on his brother's face.

Aurelius huffed in annoyance. Even now, nearing their fifties, his older brother was as meddlesome, as manipulative, and as exasperating as he was when they were children. "Why did you even join The Order?"

"To keep tabs on you of course." Damocles threw him an odd look. Wasn't the answer obvious enough? "But I have to admit, my old friend has gotten me very curious." He grinned. "I plan on catching up with him soon."

"Kingsley's changed a lot since Hogwarts, huh?" Aurelius felt his shoulders sag, disappointed with the former Head Boy.

"No he hasn't."

Aurelius furrowed his brows in confusion at the sight of his older brother's prideful grin.

"If anything, he's gotten so much better."

"You don't think what he's doing is absolutely appalling?" Aurelius gaped at his brother in disbelief. "He doesn't play by the rules! He breaks the law to suit his needs! He… He plays with people's feelings and-"

"And it's _exactly_ why we're enjoying the peace we have now." Damocles grinned.

Kingsley Shacklebolt was a ruthless motherfucker, no doubt about that. But he was an absolutely _brilliant_ ruthless motherfucker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those who've been dying to know Draco's input on Hermione's research (chapter 10), this update is your answer :) A tiny easter egg was actually given on chapter 6 when Draco talked about Bertha Jorkins ^^
> 
> Marcus Belby's dad wasn't given a name in the canon universe so I decided to give him one myself. A small nod to the Stoic philosopher, Marcus Aurelius :) I didn't place his name in chapter 12 because I didn't want anyone to guess that the Belby brothers would play a bigger role in this universe :p I wanted the element of surprise. Hopefully it didn't feel too awkward!
> 
> Admittedly, when I saw my outline for this update and realized how many voices I had to write, I kept procrastinating, trying to find a way out of it lol! This was honestly quite a troublesome chapter T.T
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! A kudos and comment would be highly appreciated ^^
> 
> P.S. Just out of curiosity, which potential romantic pair are you most rooting for in this universe? I'd really like to know :)


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